


Black Red White Gold

by Balenae



Series: Color Palette [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alexander is Mondatta's bodyguard from 'Alive', Does Alexander count as an OC?, Eventual Smut, Family Dynamics, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oh boy smut, Slow Burn, Violence, You didn't hear me, brothers amirite, burn - Freeform, disregard for canon timeline, guilty masturbation, humans and omnics being pathetic, lots of minor OCs to populate the world, seriously why did I make this so long, slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-02-15 01:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balenae/pseuds/Balenae
Summary: Years later he would remember this moment vividly.The room was lit with the warm glow of candles, dozens of them, clear and white wax dribbling down the stone. On one wall there was a simple golden Shambali banner and on the floor was a red woven wool mat, and upon the mat was——an Omnic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is finally a thing. I… really don’t know if anyone is going to like this story. It’s… not what I’d usually write and not what I’d usually read. I decided if I was going to do this then I was going to do it right and build Alexander, what I named the focal bodyguard from the Alive animated short, from the ground up and make him as complete a character I could. I've had to make up everything except his face and his voice. Hopefully you find him likable.
> 
> This story is written from the beginning of his and Mondatta’s acquaintance and follows through to… well, we’ll see. That means I had to fill an empty world with minor characters. I have a fairly strong dislike of OCs in fanfic taking on positions of notice. I’d much rather fill roles in the story with canon characters but…. That wasn’t really an option here. I found myself in need of filling an empty world, thus… Anyway, if it’s not your thing, I totally get it, no worries. Skip around the text or skip the story if that’s better for you. Whatever works. 
> 
> Lore has also changed a lot since I started writing this. Uprising came out AFTER I did the chapter in King's Row. So... Yeah. None of that taken into account.
> 
> Okay. Here we go.

Alexander knew that the sentiment was both redundant and stupid, but Himalayan Nepal was _cold_.

He thanked the man who let him hitch a ride up to the little village in a sad attempt at Nepali. The trip had been a miserable, two-day venture; thinner oxygen, biting cold and the absolute limit of how long his back could stand to sit on a rickety wooden wagon testing his endurance. His driver hadn’t even let him pay for it. Apparently people from this village were pretty fond of these Omnics and they were excited and familiar with bringing travelers to them. 

Alexander ached by the end but he was also curious and so very ready for this to be over with, however it turned out. He’d never traveled so far or dealt with so much to potentially take a job. There were a dozen far easier opportunities he could’ve put his name in to vie for, but hearing about this—a peaceful, religious group of Monks looking for protection as they spread their message of faith and acceptance? Alexander felt a stirring in his chest he hadn’t felt in over a decade that felt a lot like vocation. He wanted this to mean something.

He was, as afore mentioned, also terribly curious. 

Alexander looked incredibly out-of-place in the village, bag thrown over his shoulder, with his thick nylon and down coat and insulated pants. Foreign dishwater-blond hair, short enough that it looked nondescript, and wearing dark red sunglasses because snow blindness was a real thing. His gloves were almost so thick he could barely grip anything yet somehow his fingers were _still_ frozen. Even with his tall, thick boots, he still found himself slipping on the occasional iced stone as he made his way through the village.

Giggling caught his attention and he turned to see a cluster of four children laughing at him as he fought for his balance. They were dressed warmly in yak wools and layered to deal with the biting chill. They seemed used to it, their cheeks weren’t even red. His had long since numbed.

They stared at him, their faces smiling and curious.

He stared back, awkward. He’d never been good with kids. 

“Temple?” He tried in rough Nepali, “Shambali?”

He’d expected maybe a pointing finger in the right direction, but the littlest child, a young girl, _squealed_ and charged over to him, taking his gloved hand and yanking at it with her small weight. He blinked, lost, and let her pull him along.

The other children scampered after, babbling at him in a flood of words he couldn’t begin to understand. He looked around nervously, wondering what their parents would think of children running around with some foreign stranger. He waved uncertainly to some adults he passed, hoping this wasn’t about to go south in a hurry.

They pointed at him as he passed and laughed.

Alexander figured he was on his own. 

The children led him, babbling and clamoring out of the village and up a slightly daunting switchback path that led further up the mountain. He could see what looked like ancient stone slabs laid as steps on the path but they’d nearly eroded to nothing or been buried under the shift of the earth. Justifiably, his steps were cautious. Around him, his escorts ran in wild abandon, as surefooted as true mountain natives could be. 

They led him up and _up_ and Alexander could admit he grew winded in the thin air embarrassingly quickly. The children giggled at him and gave him no rest. Then the littlest girl shrieked again and pointed, babbling in excitement and Alexander’s breath caught in his throat at the sight.

A spire leaned out from behind the side of the peak and at the top a long golden pennant trailed in the tumbling Himalayan wind, the golden cloth bright like a dream. He hurried along and the face of Shambali temple loomed out of the side of the mountain itself. 

It was ancient, made of a pale, sandy stone, banners with the Shambali icon hanging in long lines around the main entrance. The children hurried forward through the terrace at the entrance, but Alexander followed at a slower gait, his eyes drawn to the massive statuary hovering in the air as he passed.

There was something solemn about this place, but not in a bad way. It was peaceful in the almost absolute silence of the mountains. Still and calm in a way that had nothing to do with the blowing wind and plumes of dry snow blown from the peaks. 

As he took careful steps forward, his face aching, his fingers and toes painful with cold, he felt as though this were a place out of time. Ageless and yet ancient. 

The children led him in and the interior of the temple was immediately, noticeably warmer. The air was so still out of the wind and the inside was lit by a warm glow from wall sconces and candles clustered along the embellishments. He removed his dark glasses, gray-green eyes adjusting to the change in light.

“Welcome.”

Alexander did not _jump_. Not quite. He was too well-seasoned to be taken so unaware but the voice that greeted him was a surprise. Especially since it came in English.

The children waved and clamored at the monk—that’s what the Omnic that stood there must be—and he bent his head and spoke to them in Nepali. Alexander took the moment to really get a good look at him, different from others he’d met. Chrome and gold, his head was smooth and rounded, tapering down to the gold jaw. He looked as though an expression of permanent quiet was etched into his faceplate, underneath a large nine-point light array. The children tugged at his pale robes and babbled at him. He nodded along to whatever was said and then turned back to Alexander expectantly.

“Ah, thank you,” He said, a touch uncertain, “I’m Benjamin Alexander, I was invited here to speak to the head of the Shambali order about their need for security?”

The monk nodded, his grid array glowing a strong blue in the low light of the temple, “Of course. We have been expecting you. I am glad you arrived safely. Were there any difficulties with your travel?”

“No, it was fine. It’s just a long way up here.”

The monk nodded, “I am pleased to hear.” He shooed the children off and they groaned sadly, but departed, obedient. After they scampered out of the temple, headed back for the village, the monk turned back to him, “I am Tekhartha Zenyatta,” He bowed again, “I am sure you are tired from your trip. We have a room prepared for your arrival if you require rest, or if you are feeling well enough I can take you to see Mondatta and you may rest later.”

Alexander was tired, but there was something almost revitalizing about this place, or perhaps he’d just hit his second wind. “If he’s available I’d like to see him now, please. Though I wouldn’t mind leaving my bag somewhere?”

Zenyatta nodded in approval, “I will make sure your bag is moved ahead,” he said and beckoned, “Follow me then, and welcome to Shambali temple.”

They walked deeper within, Alexander’s body hurting anew as it warmed. They passed other monks as they went, and one Zenyatta kindly asked to take Alexander’s bag elsewhere. They were all clothed in kasaya with variations on the theme, but the others only had three or occasionally six points of vivid Omnic-blue light on their foreheads. Not nine. They all bowed to Alexander and to his escort; the human did his best to echo the respectful welcome and offer greetings in Nepali, though they often offered their own in English. 

He thought he heard Zenyatta laugh softly at him but couldn’t be sure if it was because of his awkwardness or if he was really bungling the words that badly.

The monk led him through the main space of the temple and Alexander craned his neck up to see the vaulted ceiling and take in the incredible architecture. Alexander didn’t have much of an eye for art, but he understood the majesty of this place. He followed through the halls of the temple until they moved down a last passage with doors closed only by curtains. 

Zenyatta knocked metal knuckles against the stone doorjamb.

“Come,” A voice within invited and Zenyatta pulled the curtain and gestured to enter. Alexander took a breath and stepped inside.

Years later he would remember this moment vividly.

The room was lit with the warm glow of candles, dozens of them, clear and white wax dribbling down the stone. On one wall there was a simple golden Shambali banner and on the floor was a red woven wool mat, and upon the mat was—

—an Omnic. 

One unlike any he had ever seen. A matte white face with glittering gold accents on the jaw and an array of nine lights set in a diamond of shimmering blue. He was sitting in a tranquil lotus position and clothed in another pale robe, and he looked like some sort of ancient spirit or omen, somehow ethereal and otherworldly. He seemed _old_ for an Omnic. Older than most of the machines that were left, slight traces of wear and age at the edges of his parts.

Alexander’s throat bobbed. He’d never been a religious man, but he thought perhaps this was the first time he’d ever beheld something _holy_. Maybe he’d have a stronger belief in God if he’d grown up seeing a figure like this Omnic.

He felt suddenly, very keenly, that this really was something _important_.

“This is Mr. Benjamin Alexander, here to assist us,” Zenyatta introduced with a slight bow of his head.

“Mr. Alexander,” Mondatta said and stood, hands folding before him and bowing to him, “Welcome to Shambali Temple. I am Tekhartha Mondatta. I am surprised you did not wish to take some rest after arriving. I know it is quite a trip to reach us.”

“I was eager to meet the leader of the Shambali order,” Alexander offered, as it had been the truth from the moment he’d decided to make the journey.

Mondatta tilted his head, “Even though you already had?”

Alexander blinked; he’d remember if he’d met Mondatta before, “I—excuse me, sir?”

But Mondatta simply pointed behind him to where Zenyatta stood in the door, “Tekhartha Zenyatta leads the order with me. We are both equal heads of the Shambali.”

Zenyatta, for his part, simply bowed his head and though he made not a single sound Alexander could swear the chrome Omnic was amused.

Suddenly he felt very unprepared to be there.

He backpedaled.

“My apologies,” Alexander tried but Zenyatta waved him off.

“If it were a great concern of mine to be recognized by a title I would have corrected you. But it was not. No harm was done.”

No harm, but Alexander distinctly felt that he looked like an idiot.

“Come, we will speak then,” Mondatta invited, hands folding behind his back. Zenyatta stepped inside and Alexander finally felt warm enough to take his gloves off. “First, would you care for some tea?”

“Whatever you’re having,” He said without thinking.

Mondatta tilted his head at him. Zenyatta said, very deliberately, nothing.

Alexander scrambled, “I—I mean only if you have it made.” He couldn’t believe he was so flustered, he’d been in the temple for fifteen minutes and he’d already made a mess of this.

“Since we were not sure the time or even the day of your arrival we do not. However, we have kept a stock of food for the human pilgrims that come here. You and the others who came to potentially offer assistance to us are also welcome to it,” Mondatta explained. “It is not anything extravagant, but you will not starve.”

“Thank you,” Alexander said, not totally sure what response was appropriate.

“Good,” Mondatta said gestured to a stone bench covered in a wool cushion, likely for human use, as Omnics wouldn’t have to worry about comfort the way humans did. He shifted, hands clasped behind his back. “We have many questions for you, as we are in a delicate situation. We have gone over your information at great length, but we would prefer to cover it with you.” 

Alexander sat and nodded, “Of course, anything you want to know, sir.”

“So you are Benjamin Quinn Alexander,” Mondatta intoned the name slowly.

“Just Alexander, please,” He corrected, “I don’t like my first and middle names.”

“Mr. Alexander it is then,” The monk agreed. As a child it always bothered him that his surname was also a first name, but as an adult he found Alexander to be a much stronger label. Still, he’d always thought ‘Mr. Alexander’ sounded terrible, but said with that faint South-Asian accent it sounded almost respectable. “You have a background we were particularly impressed by. Two tours with the United States military followed by a not inconsiderable number of years working in private security. You are licensed to carry internationally and have experience specifically in working with people or assets you protect during travel.”

He nodded, “I’m proud of my time in the military but it left me with a particular skill set that isn’t terribly applicable to purely civilian life. Security work was something I could do easily, and my record should show I have the mind for it.”

“Why not join a police force then?” Zenyatta asked, “Why do security work, privately on top of that, instead of joining a company?”

Alexander fought his reflex to shrug, “A personal reason. Family.” He hesitated a moment before expanding, “I joined the military as soon as I turned eighteen. My mother… convinced me not to take on a third tour. I think if I died she wouldn’t have survived me for long.”

“Interesting,” Mondatta said, and Alexander thought he was going to say more but the Omnic left it there. 

“I am curious about something else perhaps of a personal nature,” Zenyatta mentioned. 

Alexander straightened, “Sir?”

“You speak English with a faint accent, from the British Isles, yet you listed your nationality as American and served in the American military.”

“Ah, my mother is from England,” he explained haltingly, “My father was from America, and after his death she moved us across the Atlantic.”

“I would prefer to move on instead,” Mondatta said. “We have enough to discuss about his professional work. I mentioned interest earlier that you had done work in several countries. This is also of great relevance to us as we will be traveling a great deal.” 

Alexander nodded, “I’m no stranger to international travel in particular. In fact when I was working for a CEO out of New York City, I accompanied him to the Middle East fairly often.”

Mondatta nodded, “Tell us about what you did for that.”

Alexander squared his shoulders, nodded, and did.

\--

Alexander spoke for hours about himself. The Omnics hadn’t been lying or misleading him, they were _thorough_ in their questions. Eventually however he seemed to exhaust their queries, as well as himself. He fought to stay alert, his weariness catching up to him. 

“That satisfied my curiosity for now,” Mondatta said. “I was wondering however if you had any questions for us.”

He blinked a bit, “For you, sirs?”

Mondatta nodded, “Others that came to interview as you have all seemed so very surprised by what they found here, though we made no secret of it.” He tilted his head to look back at him, “It is of great care to us, who we trust the lives of the Shambali to, but we also would not wish to mislead you either.”

Alexander nodded and reminded himself this was just a job, even if it was for Omnic Buddha-Jesus. Whatever. “I guess my first question is why now? Why leave your temple now?”

Zenyatta and Mondatta exchanged a glance at one another, “You are not curious about the Shambali order or about either of us?”

“Of course I am,” Alexander allowed, “But anything that might affect your safety is more important. Who and what you are doesn’t matter. Regardless of the answer you would need to feel secure if you were to rely on me even in part for protection.”

Mondatta nodded slowly, “We have had pilgrims arriving for years to seek us here. Many, if not all, have told us what good we could do for Omnic rights if we were to leave and take our message to the world.” 

Alexander nodded, “I can understand that desire, but why _specifically_ now?”

Zenyatta was the one who answered him, “Because while the Omnic people have made great strides and there are Omnics in industries and positions formerly closed to us, no one has stepped up to be the voice of our people.”

Mondatta continued, “We have a world to convince but I do not just mean the human population. Many Omnics also need a guiding light to be led from the darkness.” He spoke with conviction and then shook his head, “Perhaps that sounds conceited, stated thusly, but the Shambali exist solely for the sake of Omnic betterment and unity with the human species, as guided by the light and warmth of the Iris. If not us, then who?”

Alexander nodded. He didn’t particularly care personally but wanted to know their reasons. He hoped he wasn’t staring at a pair of martyrs. “I suppose then just you, sirs. If what you say is true then it can’t be anyone else.”

They were silent a moment and then Zenyatta chuckled, but not unkindly and Mondatta’s shoulders seemed to relax. “You know,” the chrome monk began, “I think you may be exactly what we were looking for.”

Alexander blinked once, then again, “I am? Just like that, I’m hired? I thought—”

Mondatta turned to look at Zenyatta a sighing sound escaping him, “You did not tell him did you? _Zenyatta_.”

“It was your decision,” The other Omnic said blithely, “I did not want to set anything in stone when you may have yet changed your mind.”

“You were already hired,” Mondatta said simply turning back to Alexander, “We have other things to go over still, certainly, but we handpicked our team after a great deal of research and background checking. We already knew who we wanted to work for us.”

Alexander felt a little bit flummoxed and a little bit _had_ , “So what was the point of coming here and pretending to interview?”

“We were checking which of the security staff we’d selected would be best suited to act as my personal, dedicated security guard.”

“By the way, that is you,” Zenyatta hummed. “Mine has already been settled.”

Alexander could only gawp a bit in an undignified manner.

These two were a whole lot trickier than he thought.

“But sirs—“ he hadn’t noticed how late it had been getting and a bone-cracking yawn finally escaped in the middle of his question. Mortified, he tried to apologize only to have Zenyatta wave him off.

“I believe we’ve gone on for quite long enough. Mr. Alexander has had a trying few days and could use some rest. We can cover the rest tomorrow.”

Mondatta nodded with what seemed like a touch of reluctance, likely that the momentum had been broken. Alexander could already tell he was rather focused. “As you say. We will continue this tomorrow then. Would you show him to the room we arranged?”

Zenyatta nodded and beckoned, “Come with me. Hopefully it is prepared to your liking.”

Alexander nodded, thinking if it had a clear space of floor to pass out on he’d be fine at this point. But he was led to a small room, illuminated by warm candlelight with the rest of the temple, with a straw mattress and enough wool quilts to ward off even the Himalayan cold. There was a window—shut tightly—and all-in-all it was rather cozy. 

His bag was sitting next to the mattress innocuously, and Alexander was looking forward to a change of clothing. As he stepped inside Zenyatta spoke again, “You may hear monks moving around at about dawn, but you may rise whenever you wish.”

Alexander shook his head with a sigh and pulled out his phone to set his alarm. “Since you’re apparently already set on me I imagine I’ll be rising with you in the future.”

“Likely often enough,” Zenyatta agreed, “But you would not be expected to live your life completely in our pockets. There will be shifts and days off and vacation time to be spent away. It is not as though you are a _machine_.”

Alexander was almost positive this was said in teasing but he was so tired he couldn’t be certain. He managed a soft snort by way of reply and, after Zenyatta departed, went about falling into bed with a tired, almost mechanical precision, and was out like light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What _was_ it about these Omnics?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm genuinely, really just... overwhelmed by the response this got, I can't even believe it. I thought it might get like a few hits and maybe a couple comments and kudos if I was lucky but I was blown away as they just kept coming. I don't mean it in a self congratulatory way, but I just... Thank you. You all made me giggle and smile for days. 
> 
> Also, I'm sure pretty much everyone anticipated this, but there is some headcanony stuff in this fic. I can't really escape it, there's so little to work with. Hope it's all okay.

Alexander stayed a week at Shambali temple. 

They hammered out some pertinent details the first full day, covered his duties—there were a lot but most could be boiled down to ‘stay with Mondatta’ and ‘don’t let him die’—as well as his salary and benefits. He believed they were mostly funded by gifts and donations, largely unasked for, which they were using to finance their security and personnel, the upkeep required of the temple, and the rest given to the village or to charity. 

Dawn and his alarm came early, but it hardly seemed like a chore when he saw his first Himalayan sunrise.

Watching the sun bloom over the mountains was like a sight straight out of a documentary. The spectacle of it was something so awe-inspiring he almost couldn’t believe he got to see it with his own eyes. The black of night gave way to the red and gold of the dawn slowly, its parting reluctant. He took a video with his phone that was completely inadequate, knowing his mother would probably like to see it.

During that week he decided he didn’t think he’d ever met two people more steady than Mondatta and Zenyatta. They were as even and serene as a still pond while at the same time there were the unexpected moments of wit and wisdom that flowed under the undisturbed surface like sleek fish. Being around them was like a constant epiphany for him.

It was incredibly relaxing to his rigid mind. But though there was a lot to do, a lot to learn, and just a lot in general lurking on his horizon he felt very much at ease.

Still, by the third day he had a headache from lack of caffeine, and he rooted through the supply of food for human visitors they had in the mostly-unused ancient kitchen until he emerged victorious with a small, half-full can of instant coffee with an Indian label he couldn’t read. Apparently the other humans that visited the temple were addicts like he was. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he set an old pot on the small stove space over the ancient stone hearth and lit the fire. How old _was_ this place anyway? Far older than the Omnics, that was for certain.

Mondatta found him boiling bottled water, shaking the grounds into a pan while trying to figure out a measurement for them without any implements. “Ah, Mr. Alexander. I hoped that was you I heard making noise in here.”

Alexander glanced up from his scrutiny of the can of grounds to see that unchanging face and blue diamond array peering at him, the head tilted just slightly in inquiry. “I’m sorry, sir. Was I making too much noise?” He didn’t think he had, but these were machines used to the absolute solitude of the mountain. One human scuffling around could’ve been cacophonous. 

“Not at all,” Mondatta folded his hands behind his back, assured of the source of the disturbance. “I just wanted to be sure a leopard had not gotten in again.”

Alexander blinked, “Like… a snow leopard? You have those here?”

Mondatta nodded. 

“Oh, well I’m glad one didn’t get in too,” because _what_.

“What are you doing?” The Omnic strode over, curious, peering at the brown sludge of the boiling grounds, “That… does not look like an appetizing breakfast for a human.”

Alexander snorted, “I’m making coffee. Strong coffee. Or I’m trying to.” He held up the can so the monk could see and Mondatta made a sound of understanding. 

“Ah, many of our visitors all expressed relief upon discovering we had that here. But I have never seen it made. May I watch?”

Alexander almost shrugged carelessly, but then remembered this was probably robot-messiah and also probably his new employer and _dear God, be professional even if you’re in civilian clothes_ , and nodded, “Of course. I’d be happy to show you.”

Mondatta gestured for him to go on.

“Well I added the grounds to the water and let it boil.” He checked his watch, “Been almost two minutes, which should be enough, so we’ll bring it off the heat.” He shifted the pot over off the old stone stove. “The grounds sink to the bottom, and you can pour the coffee off the top. I can filter out any remaining bits.” He held up an old cotton shirt he’d brought to sleep in, ready to sacrifice it as a coffee filter.

He set a stretch of the white cotton over the large earthenware mug he was using and carefully poured the piping hot mixture into the cup, the shirt staining, but catching bits of coffee grit in its fibers. Alexander pulled the cup out, keeping in a moan at the smell and showed it to Mondatta. “And the end result is a cup of black coffee.”

Mondatta nodded, “It is quite a bit like tea then?”

Alexander nodded, “Steeped the same way, but coffee is ground beans while tea is brewed from leaves.”

“Interesting,” Mondatta said, peering at it, “And it is good?”

The blond brought the mug up and blew across its surface, scattering the liquid a bit and took a brief, shallow sip of the superhot mix. “Very good. It’s a bit of an acquired taste, sort of like burnt water. I don’t think I can explain the relief of caffeine though.” He snorted faintly, “I started drinking it at fourteen because I had to be on a seven am bus to school. I hate sleeping on moving vehicles.”

“I am glad to hear, although it surprises me to see you so in need of such a substance. It is not wise to use such things as a crutch.”

Alexander frowned a bit, “I don’t want there to be any misconception about something like substance abuse. I do not drink alcohol in excess and I do not use intoxicating substances of any kind. I want to be very clear about that, sir. I don’t want you to think something untrue of me. Especially like that. I’m a professional, sir.”

Mondatta made a soft considering sound, “I am very pleased to hear that, Mr. Alexander. It is certainly one thing less to worry about. However you have mistaken my meaning. I meant that you struck me as a man who does not make a habit of depending upon others. Is that untrue?”

“No,” Alexander agreed slowly, “That is correct. I prefer to be self-reliant. Depended on rather than depending upon.”

“So why then are you _depending upon_ a substance to such a degree that it affects your health?” 

He found he had no answer.

“It is not a judgment, merely a question as I learn you. The idiosyncrasies of humans are fascinating,” Mondatta turned to depart. “Thank you for showing me how to make coffee. Though, speaking of getting to know you, would you like to go for a walk around the temple? You have not had much time to explore and I want you to see the place we call home.” 

Alexander blinked once, slowly, and then again, “Let me get my coat.”

\--

He walked abreast of Mondatta as he headed out of the temple, mouth still feeling faintly scalded from finishing his coffee too fast. The Omnic had his hands folded behind his back and moved silently. If there wasn’t for the quiet power and poise to him, Alexander would’ve thought the Omnic had promptly forgotten about him.

“What do you think so far, Mr. Alexander?” Somehow when Mondatta finally did speak it was still a surprise.

He blinked, wishing he’d brought his red sunglasses as the cold air stung his face, “About what in particular, sir?”

“Anything. Your first impressions. I have some concern that we have overwhelmed you, and that was not our intention.” Mondatta angled his head, watching him as they walked.

“I wouldn’t say overwhelmed,” Because to him something overwhelming was something he couldn’t deal with, “But it was a surprise.”

“Mm, we have heard that quite often.” Mondatta agreed. “You were something of a surprise yourself, you know.”

That brought him up a little short because he didn’t think he’d ever been anything other than completely predictable. He was a military man with his own host of issues; he had always figured he was more or less a stereotype. “In what way?”

“You were not quite what I expected. In part, I believe, because it has been so long since I interacted with humans other than the villagers regularly, and they are as distanced from the outside world as we are.” He turned and paused be the edge of the terrace, watching the newly-risen sun. “I know better than to reduce a life down to the facts and points on a piece of paper or a set of data. But I am always delighted in the nuances of people. More so because it has been such a very long time since we had a sense of the outside world.” 

Alexander nodded slowly, understanding, “You’re curious.”

“Very, especially as we will be seeing a great deal of each other from here on out.”

He nodded, “Well I’m happy to tell you anything you want to know.”

Mondatta regarded him for a moment, “Have you ever seen the mountains before, Mr. Alexander?”

The question wasn’t what he expected, and it gave him pause, “I live near the Appalachian Mountains in America, but no, sir, I’ve never seen mountains like this.”

“What do you think of them?” He turned and looked out to where the dawn capped the peaks in gold.

“They’re beautiful, quiet. Even if they’re cold.”

Mondatta made a sound between acknowledgement and amusement, “They are at that. I have seen them for so many years, for so many thousands of days I was looking forward to seeing them with new eyes.” He nodded to Alexander, “Through yours.”

Alexander hesitated and then dug out his phone, “Here,” He pulled up the video he’d taken his first day, “The recording isn’t great, but I’d never seen anything like the sunrise here before.” He hit play, “It was a moment I wanted to hold onto.”

Mondatta made a curious sound, watching with interest, “Fresh eyes indeed,” he murmured when it ended. “Thank you for sharing that. Why take a video of it though, may I ask?”

“Oh,” He shuffled faintly and tucked his phone away again, “I thought it would be nice to show to my mother when I’m back stateside after this. Since I don’t have great wireless reception up here.”

“Your mother,” He murmured, hesitant, “You cited her as the reason your military career ended?”

“Yes sir, ah,” he hesitated, sharing and opening up had never been easy for him, “I joined the military to get away from where I grew up, but I left it to go back. My father was a part of Overwatch back in the old days when it was still respectable, before the organization finally fell. He wasn’t an agent, just a soldier. He… died in combat when I was only a year old.”

“And then after his death, your family moved,” Mondatta said, recalling.

“Right,” Alexander nodded, “Mom tried to be supportive when I enlisted, but I don’t think she’d have survived burying the both of us. My mother works at mechanical repair, mostly antique tech. She was always getting broken electronics mailed to her to fix and told me she couldn’t stand to see her son come home that way, something dead and broken that shows up in a box on her doorstep.”

They had reconnected after that, wayward wires finally anchored. She was good at repair, after all.

“I am surprised you continue to walk in such a high-risk world then,” Mondatta said.

“It was a bit of a compromise. I’m good at this sort of work and it gives me a sense of purpose.” He fought the urge to shrug, “I like doing it.”

“A sense of purpose hmm?” Mondatta echoed, but not unkindly, a soft weighing curiosity to his voice. “I suppose I understand that a great deal. And it is good to know that the only thing that broke your loyalty to one cause was loyalty to your family.”

Alexander was quiet for a long moment, his mother not always easy to talk about to stranger who didn’t truly understand. “She’s my mother,” he said softly, the only thing he could really offer. 

Mondatta nodded, “Though we have no blood to share, Zenyatta, for all that he is my brother in faith, feels much as I imagine a sibling must. I would do anything for him, though often times my exasperation is as great as my fondness.”

Alexander chuckled, “That’s family alright. I thought my mother was going to lose her mind when I told her I didn’t want to use my first name or my middle name. I was eleven and wasn’t really well-liked at school. They thought I had a strange voice and a strange family and Ben rhymed with so many things. Easy to use it as a tool for mocking.” He sighed, “And Quinn was my father’s name. I didn’t want that, to be some shadow of a dead man, and my mother always thought of my father hearing it. I wanted to be Alexander.” He glanced at Mondatta and found that unchanging face watching his own, “Perhaps it sounds a bit foolish.”

Mondatta was quiet for a long moment and then said, “No. It does not. When I was created originally, I was only a serial number from the Omnium.” He held out his arm so Alexander could see the barcode and stamp there, “RJW-52692. The name I took after my creation was my own. Then later, when I had my awakening and realized I had a soul, I became _Tekhartha Mondatta_. I understand, Mr. Alexander, the importance of having a name you feel represented by. Identity is intrinsic, after all.”

Alexander let his eyes trace over the number etched in the metal of the Omnic he worked for now, “What was your name before?” He wished he hadn’t asked as soon as the words escaped his mouth. It was asking too much, too personal, too soon—

“Joule,” Mondatta said softly, “My name was Joule.”

\--

The next morning Alexander didn’t bother to make coffee, and crunched up pain relief pills dry because he needed something in this world to be worse than his headache. 

What _was_ it about these Omnics?

\--

A week passed in the quiet of the mountains. The moment alone in the kitchen was the only one he and Mondatta shared in that space of a seven short days.

He realized fairly quickly that Mondatta tended toward distance and was difficult to get to know, but he didn’t find him condescending or derisive. 

In contrast, Zenyatta was warm and much friendlier and while both were happy to answer the questions he had, he felt a bit more comfortable bringing his minor queries to Zenyatta. He always felt as though he were bothering the elder Omnic.

He mentioned it off-handedly when he asked Zenyatta to confirm a change he wanted to make to their roster of personnel they’d already vetted, that Mondatta only seemed to merely tolerate him.

Zenyatta laughed outright at this, “Now that certainly is not true, Mr. Alexander. Mondatta thinks very highly of you, but he has not known you long enough to really become fond. He tends to distance himself from others and does not form personal attachments easily or quickly. After you have been a regular fixture in his life for a time he will open more easily and more readily. I believe you will not be disappointed by the wait.”

Alexander blinked and thought of mentioning that morning with the black coffee and the white mountains and the gold sunrise but said instead—because his professional curiosity was more important than his personal at this juncture—“Why is that? Just the uncertainty of your civil rights push? Bringing your faith to the world?”

“Perhaps somewhat,” Zenyatta allowed, “But though I believe you’ve grasped Mondatta is the elder of the two of us, indeed, the eldest Omnic here, I do not think you realize how old he really is.”

Alexander tilted his head in curious inquiry.

“Mondatta has been online since before the first Omnic Crisis. He lived through all that.”

It was a surprise and yet somehow not. It made Mondatta nearly ancient by Omnic standards—older than Alexander himself and all his thirty-five years—but there was a certain ageless quality to it, removed from time. In that regard it was wholly unsurprising. 

\--

At the end of the week Alexander packed his things back up and departed Shambali temple with two weeks to put his affairs in order before he set off with the Omnic monks. He wouldn’t be returning to the temple, but rather meeting them in Kathmandu. 

It took him four days to get back on an airplane and leave Nepal to go home, but oddly enough the thought that he’d soon be returning was a comforting one. He was eager, really for the first time, about starting this next chapter in his life. 

He flew into Dulles outside Washington DC and spent a short two days at his apartment in Fairfax, collapsed and slept, and really little else. He woke up to find three messages from his mother, the first asking how his trip was, the second asking if he was employed, and the last one just saying ‘poke’. Concetta Alexander was showing remarkable restraint in her curiosity for a change. 

He took a _long, hot_ shower and only after—when he was sitting around in his ridiculous, fluffy purple bathrobe and sweatpants—did he respond and all he sent was the shitty video he took of the sunrise. 

A few minutes later he gets back, _“So it went well?”_

Alexander smiled a bit without even meaning to, remembering cold mountains, warm stone halls, and some of the most wonderfully peculiar people he’d ever met. 

_“Let me tell you about these two Omnics: Mondatta and Zenyatta.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing anyone can say that will convince me Mondatta's name wasn't Joule before he took on his faith. Not only does it mean a unit of work, and Mondatta has put in THE MOST WORK but its also a fucking pun. He's got an array in the shape of a diamond, a _jewel_. Joule/Jewel GET IT? 
> 
> I'll show myself out.
> 
> Hope if you're celebrating this weekend you have a wonderful holiday, and if you're not that you have a good time anyway! Be safe, be happy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh so this latest episode of 'Balenae can't keep an update schedule' was brought to you by the holidays, my brother, and Destiny 2. I'm also just bad at doing it on time. yuuup. Anywho. 
> 
> This is the first chapter we really get a look at thee cast of side OCs. I did my best to make them entertaining and interesting, but if you find them boring or they're affecting your enjoyment negatively then feel free to skim or skip. They're important to fleshing out Alexander as a character, but ultimately its more important that you guys have fun with this. It's why it exists, after all.

When Alexander was due to return he packed for an indeterminate length of time. He would be at least a month, but the Shambali had agreed that if things went well their travels might be extended before they returned again to Nepal. The time away had only added to his expectation. He’d always been most content when working, but this might be the first time he’d ever really had such anticipation. 

He flew back into Kathmandu for their departure and found a strange pair waiting for him at the airport. There was a man maybe a few years older than he was, dressed as though he were expecting an arctic expedition he was so adorned with wools and fur-lined layers, not the least of which was his mighty dark brown beard. The other was a slight Omnic, three blue points on the crown, dressed in a pale blue and gray kasaya.

He learned this was Rodney Lavoie, Canadian, and Zenyatta’s personal bodyguard. The Omnic was a sister of the Shambali order, named Kaiyatta. There were no outward physical characteristics that marked her as female but her voice was decidedly so. 

They greeted him with eager welcome, Kaiyatta full of a nervous excitement and Rodney with a resigned sort of energy. “We’re meeting the rest of the monks in the city tomorrow,” he told Alexander. “Tonight is just the security team getting together. Kinda wish we’d all met each other beforehand since this is a long-term gig, but apparently it was Wilkinson’s call.”

The Shambali had hired Jonathan Wilkinson as their security director. Alexander knew him by reputation, but had never actually worked for the man before. 

“I suppose that is his decision,” Alexander allowed hesitantly. “But I’ve done worse, working with people I’d never properly met before.” Privately he agreed with Rodney. He wished this had happened earlier, but was not about to raise fuss and doubt over the head of Shambali security with one of their number standing two feet to his left. A rather nervous one of their number at that. 

“I was to come early to meet you all,” Kaiyatta said, hands twisting a bit before her, a slight tinny sound from metal-on-metal. “This is all so much bigger than anything I have been a part of before. I hope I manage adequately.”

“It must be a bit out of your comfort zone,” Alexander tried to offer gentle sympathy. “We appreciate it though.”

“Masters Mondatta and Zenyatta thought it might be a good exercise for me. Being outside my normal routine creates anxiety as I am used to strictly programmed parameters. This freedom is something new. Rather than simply have a technician overwrite that part of my program, they thought that it might be better if I overcame the issue on my own. It is something I have slowly been gaining control of since I joined the order. With their help, of course.”

Rodney grinned a bit, “Kai here tends to babble a bit when she’s nervous I’ve found. But I don’t think I’ve ever met a more good-natured gal in all the world.”

Kaiyatta bowed her head, “I know you are simply flattering me, Mr. Lavoie. I am certain you hold your partner as much sweeter than I.”

The Canadian laughed, “You have clearly never met my girlfriend. I love Deirdre with all my damn heart, but that woman is not sweet by any stretch. She’s terrifying and fierce and I am just damn lucky she’s mine.” 

“Must be quite a woman,” Alexander prompted, and sure enough, Rodney was off, telling stories about her as they made their way out of the airport, interspersed with him bitching softly about the cold. 

As they went, Alexander tried not to let his nerves grow to be more than a low frisson in his chest. This would be his first time meeting the rest of the staff and he was looking forward to it, though he wished there was more time to grow accustomed. He’d worked with plenty of meatheads who never seemed to get beyond their jock phase, effective if unpleasant, but he couldn’t imagine an enlightened religious order going for that kind of service. 

Rodney told Alexander that they were all holed up locally until the rest of the team collected, and it wasn’t that far into the city before they reached the hostel they’d be taking over for a night before the rest of monks arrived the next day. 

Stepping inside the modest accommodations he heard the drone of many voices overtop one another, multiple conversations reaching him. It was a diverse crowd that met his vision. He could discern various nationalities, ethnicities, and there were almost as many women as men. Accents of numerous places hit his ears, no voice alike. 

“Another two!” A tall blonde woman spotted them first, her accent one of faint German origin. “Welcome! You took your time!”

The sentiment was accompanied by laughter so Alexander only smiled, taking it for the joke it was. “Thank you. It’s good to be here.”

“This is Benjamin Alexander and Rodney Lavoie,” Kaiyatta introduced, voice demure, posture still nervous. “They will be handling Mondatta and Zenyatta’s personal security, respectively.”

A man with neatly side-parted brown hair and a strong cleft chin whistled, “Ah, the chosen two then. We’ll try not to make your jobs harder.” His voice was strongly British, more so than Alexander’s own vestigial accent. 

The blonde woman held out a hand to them both, “I’m Helga Vogt. Good to meet you both.”

“Alexander, if you don’t mind,” He greeted, and Rodney did the same a moment after. 

“Patricia Howard,” The most muscular black woman he’d ever seen introduced herself, offering her hand as well, “But if you call me Patricia we’re gonna have something a little more serious than words. It’s Trish.”

Alexander grinned a touch, “Likewise if you call me Benjamin or any variation thereof.”

She grinned widely, white teeth flashing, “We have an accord then.” 

“Laurence Ward,” The Brit introduced next. 

“Thank God you’re all speaking English,” Rodney muttered fervently. “I’d have tried but been so damn lost.” 

Trish laughed, “One of the requirements for employment as I understand. It was probably easier for the bots than finding a team up to muster that all spoke Nepali.” She glanced at Kaiyatta for confirmation, and the female Omnic jumped at bit at the notice.

“Yes, yes that is correct.”

“So quite the crowd without the barrier,” Laurence picked up. “So don’t hesitate to talk to anyone. They all seem like good people.” He pointed at a few of the other faces in the room, several bubbles of conversation having split off. “I’ve met Claude there, and Kefele is out of Egypt. His head really is as smooth as it looks, Trish got to touch. I imagine you’ll get to meet everyone soon, but the one you ought to know first is him.” He pointed to a shorter, square man with mouse brown hair that was neatly combed, his hair line receding just a touch too far up his forehead to be unnoticed. “That’s Director Wilkinson. He seems a bit tight, so better sooner rather than later might be wise.”

He nodded, “Thank you, I definitely—“

His train of thought was cut off as the door opened and a young man with dark, bushy hair and dark eyes opened the door, wrapped in a thick coat. He blinked slowly and spoke without a hint of accent, “Ah, sorry, is this where the Shambali’s security detail is supposed to meet? I was directed here.”

“Oh no,” Kaiyatta clasped her hands nervously, clearly fretting, “You must be Luka Korhonen. Oh dear, I was supposed to meet you at the airport but when your plane was delayed they told me you’d be arriving much later…”

Luka clearly did not know what to do with the female Omnic panicking right in front of him, “Hey, no, its fine! No harm done! I got here just fine.”

“Yeah, but you’re late!” Trish said, grinning at him in a truly shark-like manner. “Now quit scarring Kai.”

“Seriously,” Luka whispered, his voice still loud with panic, “I am sorry. Oh God, Omnics can’t cry can they?” 

“Luka, huh?” Trish looked him up and down, more unimpressed than appraising, “Well sit your ass down and stop making it worse.”

“I’m gonna just—“ Luka sat, wide-eyed and did just so. 

Conversation picked up normally after that, and Alexander scanned the room again, noting that Wilkinson was free of the conversation he’d been in before. As Rodney argued lightly with Trish about the pros and cons of dry flies versus wet flies in fly fishing, he figured this was as good a time as any to make his introductions. 

Alexander had always formed opinions of people quickly and precisely, something honed in his time working security. Short and shrewd, Jonathan Wilkinson was a careful man who had been in the security business for almost as long as Alexander had been alive. 

“Excuse me,” He began as he approached, “Director Wilkinson?” he offered his hand, “I’m Benjamin Alexander. I was hired on as part of the team and to protect Tekhartha Mondatta.” He offered what he hoped was a disarming smile, “I’ve heard about the work you did. I was very impressed with the way you handled the whole fiasco with the head of LumeriCo a few years ago. I doubt anyone could’ve done a better job.”

But Wilkinson looked at his hand and didn’t bother to take it. “So you’re one of the two the monks brought in behind my back? Let’s get something straight here, Alexander. I’m running this thing my way and I don’t really appreciate these bots making choices and decisions over my head. I don’t agree with the appointment of either you or Lavoie as separate security somehow outside my authority. You’re going to do things my way. You got that?”

Alexander blinked, unprepared for the hostile welcome but he nodded slowly, “Of course sir, it’s not my intention to make things more difficult.”

“Good,” Wilkinson nodded, “See that you don’t or we’re going to have a problem.” The words were so different in this context than the teasing he’d heard before. “And if we have a problem then I guarantee I’ll win. Remember that, would you.” And he turned his attention away in clear disrespectful dismissal. 

He went back to the group he’d been with before; sitting quietly and listening to them chatter rambunctiously, his good mood gone. He’d worked for bad bosses before. This wasn’t the first time by a stretch, but it put a messy damper on his excitement. 

More than his own sake, he hoped that whatever enmity Wilkinson felt about being circumvented didn’t bleed through to his care for the Shambali. 

It made Alexander a bit nervous, but it wasn’t his choice or his call.

\--

They all stayed up into the night, jet lag keeping everyone’s hours uneven, talking and breaking the ice, getting familiar. Wilkinson’s frostiness aside, the rest of the team were good people, friendly and after they’d all compared resumes, Alexander wasn’t worried that they couldn’t buckle down and do their jobs even though they’d all been fun. 

Too early, Kaiyatta roused them to go meet the rest of the Shambali, who had arrived late last night and stayed in a local Buddhist temple till the morning. It was a close enough distance to walk, even though all of them were certainly conspicuous. As they approached the temple there was a crowd gathered, and Alexander felt a sense of déjà vu.

“What is all this?” Kaiyatta fretted and hurried them along. “They ought to be more respectful than this, there are monks here meditating before they leave Nepal for the first time since they arrived, how could—“

Her words died in her throat as they pushed to the forefront of the crowd and found Mondatta speaking softly to the assembled crowd, Zenyatta standing back a bit and watching. The latter caught sight of them and stepped over without interrupting and spoke softly, “It is incredible. This was something spontaneous. Mondatta had been speaking to a few of the monks outside as we waited and people began to stop and listen. It is most encouraging.”

It was encouraging, and if it was a reflection of how things would go for the Shambali order, Alexander expected he’d be very busy.

\--

The first place the Shambali had been accepted to speak was in Africa, Numbani. 

At the Western coast of Africa, under the lip of the continent so to speak, it was a beautiful city that bordered on the edge of the savannah, and Alexander could see wildebeest and gazelle from the window of his incredibly nice hotel room that shared a door with Mondatta’s—The city council was ecstatic to have them as guests. He’d only been in it briefly to sleep, but it was a blessed, climate-controlled breather from the oppressive temperature outside.

Numbani was as hot as Himalayan Nepal had been cold. 

Alexander had been melting in the suit he wore while on duty. 

But as he woke on the day of the Shambali’s first big speech, he found himself enjoying the quiet and taking his time dressing in the carefully pressed slacks and ironed shirt, doing his tie three times over to make sure it hung perfectly and without wrinkle. 

He attached his comm to his ear, though the line was mostly quiet, just a few of the guards who’d taken the graveyard shift occasionally chattering softly. He checked himself over in the mirror, making sure he was as professional looking as possible, and picked up his red sunglasses, tucking them into an inner pocket, and checked the time. 

Quarter to six, Mondatta would be up by now— 

A knock at the door he shared with the Shambali leader surprised him, but he went over, opening it. 

“Ah, you are awake,” Mondatta said, “And ready by the looks of things. I hope then I am not too late to give you this.”

Alexander blinked again and realized the monk was holding out a mug to him, “You got me coffee?” Why could he not say anything that wasn’t stupid in front of this Omnic?

“I _made_ you coffee,” Mondatta corrected gently and held the mug out a bit further, prompting him to take it.

Alexander did, feeling how hot it still was, knowing Mondatta would’ve had to have just finished it. The thought of this spiritual leader taking the time before one of the most important days of his life to make him coffee instead of meditating or going over the itinerary was—

He took a scalding sip before a thought could form. 

“Is it to your liking?” Mondatta asked, mostly curious, but also hopeful. 

“I thought you said I shouldn’t be dependent on a caffeinated crutch?” He pointed out.

“No, I said that I was surprised you were. It was not a judgment, merely an observation.” Mondatta had the distinct aura of faint amusement, much lighter and harder to detect than Zenyatta’s. “And one should take care of themselves, especially before a day such as this.”

Alexander’s eyes found a single dark spot on the white front of Mondatta’s kasaya, barely more than a tiny droplet, but considering what he’d been up to there was no mistaking what stained the pristine cloth. 

Alexander almost told him but instead took another sip of strong, black coffee. Perhaps this was the same feeling that drove boys to carve their initials into trees or graffiti monuments, to leave a mark on something _perfect_.

“It’s good,” he agreed softly, smiling, “Thank you.”

\--

The day was busy and tense with coiled energy and promise. This was the first real trial by fire they’d had with all of them on deck, and Alexander had his attention split. He kept close track of Mondatta, never more than five steps from the monk’s tall form at any given time. He kept an eye on Zenyatta as well, under Rodney’s watchful eye, the Canadian looking constricted in the suit he wore but all business none-the-less. He watched the other monks that accompanied them, the group small and close, but well-guarded by half the remaining security team. The other half worked closely with Numbani-Appointed Security to ensure constant watch and care. 

Numbani, the city of Human and Omnic Unity was, unsurprisingly, all aflutter to be visited by a group like the Shambali and they’d attracted a lot of notice. 

They toured Numbani’s famous tiered gardens and the monks took an hour there to meditate together. They looked remarkable sitting there, pale and still in the lush green garden, unaffected by the miserable heat, even though Alexander had no recourse but to stand there and sweat. City security and the rest of the team were doing well keeping the gawkers and interested onlookers at bay, and for now things were calm. Alexander frowned a bit as Wilkinson checked in late with the third team, and glanced at Rodney who had his head tilted as if listening and a matching frown. 

Alexander had been determined not to let any personal feelings color the way he interacted with the security lead the Omnics had chosen, but if Wilkinson was going to be in charge of such high-profile assets then even seconds overdue on checks or watches was far too long. Hopefully it was a fluke, he would have to wait and see.

Mondatta and Zenyatta were splitting from the others after this to meet with the mayor of Numbani, and then there was a short break for the monks to meditate—Alexander privately had a feeling it was so the security team could eat and collect themselves before the evening—and then after that they were off to the state building where Mondatta would be giving his speech on the steps.

If he could make a judgment by the steadily-swelling number of people curious about them or interested, it was going to be fairly well-attended. 

\--

Alexander stood back with Mondatta moments before the Omnic was to step forward and take the podium, Zenyatta off to the side with his own bodyguard. The Shambali leaders had been in meditation together longer than the rest of the entourage as if sequestered in wordless, spiritual collusion, but they were ready now.

Mondatta stood with his hands behind his back, head bowed forward, silent, and Alexander couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about, wondering if Omnics were affected by the same apprehensions and uncertainties humans seemed so afflicted with, if they had the same fear and dislike of public speaking, or stage fright. 

It seemed silly, as such a thing could likely be programmed out, and their words carefully readied with perfect mechanical recall. What would an Omnic have to be afraid of speaking to a group?

He frowned and fiddled with his cuffs absently. 

There was enough to worry about or Alexander wouldn’t be here. 

“What is on your mind?” Mondatta’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts and Alexander turned to him. Everything was tinted red through his sunglasses, but Mondatta just seemed warm and golden with the tinge of color, his blue lights almost white. 

Alexander opened his mouth to tell him that they would make sure nothing happened and that he was reviewing blueprints and exit plans in his head, but said instead, “Do Omnics have fears of speaking like humans?” And wondered if he’d have to explain to his mother that he had been let go for being an idiot.

Mondatta chuckled softly, and Alexander wanted to die a little, but the Omnic shifted towards him, giving him his full, intimidating attention, “Why do you think I am talking to you?”

Alexander blinked, realizing, “A distraction?”

“I cannot speak for all Omnics, but I will admit to some apprehension. Not for the act of speaking itself or even the risk of making myself a spectacle, I was at peace with that when I founded the order. But rather the fear that no matter how we try, no one may hear our message. No one will care.”

“I think people already care,” He told Mondatta honestly, frowning when a check over the comm came in sixteen seconds late. 

“Oh?”

He blinked and managed a faint quirk of his mouth, “I do. It makes my job harder.”

The soft, startled chuckle felt a little like a small victory.

Soon enough it was time for the Shambali leader to step out and take to the podium. He walked with even, measured paces before the crowd, a hush of silent anticipation falling over them. It was where Alexander’s attention should’ve been, but in that moment he was watching Mondatta.

“Human, machine,” Mondatta spread his hands, “We are all One within the Iris.”

The crowd roared their excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, many sorry for the delay. We can now return to our regularly scheduled programming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> We met a few of the staff and another of the Shambali, and also the problematic security director heading the Shambali's security. Then we saw them all head off into the big world to tell everyone to grow the fuck up and get along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really apologize. This is stupid late. I decided in the revising process I hated a lot of this chapter... so I rewrote chunks and added entire scenes. I'm still not happy with it. It's an overwritten mess, but it's better than it was. 
> 
> I'm also in the process of moving, so that's eating up a lot of my time. No excuse, just... fuck. I dunno. I'm sorry. Here it is.

Their success in Numbani opened doors for the Shambali, and quickly their presence became welcome as they traveled. From Numbani they journeyed south to Cape Town and from there up to Egypt, making their way toward the Middle East. It was agreeable to Alexander, the Middle East far more peaceful than many places the Crisis had hit hard. He had a feeling they’d be venturing off into worse areas before he knew it.

He really hoped the two leaders didn’t turn into a pair of martyrs.

After Mondatta’s third speech there was a reception of sorts, the Shambali invited afterwards to speak with a few local leaders about what they could do to help Omnics locally. Zenyatta ended up in a discussion with a few of them that seemed to gather people into it as it went on, until the room seemed to be gathered around, hanging onto his every word and by turns engaged in the discussion. 

Alexander watched it happen, exchanging looks with Rodney who was sticking close to the robot.

“Has he gotten you too, then?” 

Alexander blinked and found Mondatta at his side, “Excuse me sir?”

“Zenyatta. He has always had a way with words and with people. One of the true rare souls that can have a heartfelt discussion with someone who disagrees with everything he says and come out happy and better for it. He is still young and still seizes on all there is to learn. I have seen it many times over the years, but it was always in closed settings back at Shambali temple. So fascinating to see it here and now.”

“You taught him though, didn’t you?” Alexander asked, voice low. 

“I did,” Mondatta said softly, voice laced with some quiet sadness. “I taught him many things over many years, but in the end though our fundamentals are the same, we are different people with different beliefs. Eventually those differences led to a rift between us, one that we nearly did not mend. Our order came close to splitting, and he almost left to find his own path.”

Alexander frowned a bit, watching Zenyatta as he gestured, his discussion building to a crescendo. “But it didn’t.”

“No, it did not. We reconciled, and ultimately this was our goal. We both wanted to share the truth of the Iris with the world, but he always felt it was more important to connect with people emotionally in the act of teaching instead of simply imparting information. He nearly left to do just that, and we would have been weaker for it.” Mondatta was quiet a moment and his unchanging face watched Alexander closely, “I would have been weaker for it,” He said, soft, as if admitting something.

It was hard to imagine this pillar of stability and spiritual growth and insight as weaker for anything. “But instead you’re both stronger for the unity.”

“We are,” Mondatta said, soft, watching the other monk as he spoke, “And I—“ He faltered a moment, voice tapering off and watching for a time, before he spoke again, “I am so very proud of him.” 

\--

Awareness of the Shambali grew by leaps and bounds going forward. Every morning when Alexander checked the news there seemed to be something new people had to say about it. As desired, they touched so many more people this way, were heard by so many, though not all agreed. Just as their reception swelled in some of the places they visited, so too did resistance, and Alexander had heart-clenching anxiety when the monks had passed before their first truly raucous crowd of protestors. He kept his hand firmly on Mondatta’s hard shoulder and steered him through at the head of the pack, knowing the others had the rest of the monks covered. 

He didn’t think he breathed easy until later on when they were safe in the church that was kind enough to keep them; the shouting and the chanting finally quiet. He still stayed up long into the night sitting outside, pacing up and down the hallway. He didn’t end up sleeping.

Fortunately, another two months and the Shambali order returned to Nepal. It was more a welcome mental break than a physical one for Alexander, who returned to the states for two weeks of leave, which he spent at home sleeping, working out to keep in form, and cooking for his mother while she buried herself in a large restoration project. He talked almost nonstop about where he’d been and the Omnics, and she listened as she ate between long shifts in her workshop or passed out on the couch. 

Then it was time to travel back to Nepal and he left his mother’s house without having spent much time as own at his own apartment. 

She kissed his hair and told him to keep her updated on his robot adventure.

\--

Time passed in a blur as it always seemed to, and before long he and the rest of the team were tallying the six month mark of their time with the Shambali: half a year spent protecting the order. Long enough now that this—the travel and the Shambali—had become his normal. His benchmark. He hoped he’d get to spend the rest of the year doing this as well. Hoped he’d stay for far longer than that.

It had been a long, blurry stretch of months for a reason. The group was led always by Mondatta and Zenyatta cooperatively, with a small group of loosely five to eight monks accompanying their travel. Some faces remained constant, Kaiyatta was always eager to follow after them and see the world though it frightened and inspired her by turns. Others, like Hondatta and Sendatta were common faces, even if they did not accompany the group every time. Mondatta and Zenyatta liked to use the travels to help teach their own order just as much as the world at large. Most of the monks Alexander saw join them all had things they needed to overcome in themselves. Then, after a series of destinations the monks returned to Nepal for rest and reunion and Alexander returned to his own home. The morning before every major speech, Mondatta made him his coffee personally. It developed easily into a routine he could count on. 

By the end of those six months, he’d made a point to always skim the news for word about the Shambali. Crowds grew and Alexander watched the Shambali’s notoriety grow with it. People wrote and talked of them and the eyes of the world were noticing, slowly but surely. Their message pushed forward and the world pushed back.

Changes rolled through for security as well, their ranks swelling with necessity for a closer and more careful watch, and both Alexander and Rodney remained concerned over their security head, whose lapses and oversights seemed to get worse as time went on. Wilkinson’s bitterness had only grown, and though he was never outright hostile to Alexander or any of the others again after that first night, his carelessness was a constant demon. Even being only ten seconds late with a check or a patrol was a dangerous lapse. Ten seconds of failed coordination was more than enough time for a skilled assailant to slip past their security. And these Omnics weren’t exactly spreading a message the world agreed wholeheartedly with. The risk was very real. 

There had been small issues that they’d had to catch and deal with, but so far no major breaches had occurred. Alexander considered them lucky, but experience had taught him it was a matter of time.

He went to Rodney one night while the monks were in meditation, grim and determined, worried and dreading more weeks to come of this. The two sat next to each other, sipping slowly from the Canadian’s flask. “We’ve gotta do something about Wilkinson,” Rodney finally said with a sigh. “Jesus I did not want to get tangled up in some bullshit work politics but this is gonna get someone killed.”

“It’s gonna get _them_ killed,” Alexander worried quietly. “What the hell is going on? I _know_ he’s handled jobs better than all this shit he’s doing. How did a man like him wind up in charge of a detail like this?”

Rodney shrugged, “I think the monks were interested in him because he had a good resume. Lots of high-stress, high profile jobs under his belt and considering who they all are…” He let the sentence hang.

Alexander picked it up, “They were willing to take a hit to personality in order to be more secure. But this just goes way beyond all that.”

“Maybe he hates Omnics, maybe he hates traveling. Hell, maybe he just doesn’t care. But if I were a betting man I’d say that he views this as a step down. He was protecting billionaires and far more prestigious employers from a lot less.” Rodney passed the flask back over and Alexander took a quick sip, wanting the miserable burn of it, but not wanting to take it too far. 

“He was part of a company prior right?” Alexander wracked his brain. “Maybe striking out on his own isn’t working as well as he’d like.”

The Canadian took a long swig from his flask, “Kinda the nature of the beast, that. Being self-employed has always been a double-edged sword.”

Alexander drummed his fingers against his knee. “So what do we do? This can’t go on. Something will give.”

Rodney was quiet a long moment and then nodded, “You know what we have to do.”

Alexander sighed, “We have to talk to them.”

\-- 

They waited and caught the two leaders as the group meditation there in the evening drew to a close, the Shambali all separating to take their own hibernation and rest. Helga and Trish gave them odd looks, knowing they were off duty for the night, but Mondatta and Zenyatta greeted them with open surprise. 

“Should not the two of you be getting your rest?” Mondatta wondered, glancing between them. 

Alexander squared his shoulders. “We wanted to speak with you, sirs, if you can spare the time. We believe something needs to be brought to your attention.”

Mondatta tilted his head and nodded, and all four accompanied the monk to his room. Once closed in a private space Mondatta regarded them impassively, hands behind his back in a comfortable, familiar gesture. “What is the issue you have?”

“It’s about Director Wilkinson,” Alexander began, voice halting. “It’s nothing you may be aware of, but there have been ongoing lapses in how he handles Shambali security. Checks and rounds come in late, the direction is sloppy.” 

“He’s been uninterested in working with the two of us as your personal security,” Rodney said, flashing a look at Alexander behind his aviators. “But he’s also not handled the rest of the team well either. He directs and manages but never works _with_ them. It’s a complaint we hear quite often but most of the team feel like they have no one they can bring their worries and issues to.” 

“We’ve had several minor slips that can almost certainly be credited to the fact that his organization of rounds and patrols is loose at best, and leaves gaps in our area of observation. Last week when you were giving a talk he’d scheduled watches only on the major entrances and exits and completely ignored the minor ones. A child was separated from her mother and wandered through where Luca found her on his patrol that went by fifteen seconds later. If that had been a gunman that came through then you could’ve been killed.” Alexander said, remembering the anxiousness he’d felt when he heard Luca worrying over the comms about finding a stray child. They’d thankfully found her frantic, tearful mother nearby looking for help but if it had been something not so innocent—

The two religious leaders listened. “Your concerns are valid,” Mondatta agreed, quiet subdued. “This is most troubling.”

“We will issue a warning to Wilkinson. If things do not change then we will take more permanent action,” Zenyatta agreed. 

Mondatta still hit them with a hard reality.

“Understand though that we are counting on the two of you for our safety. If you thought this was a problem earlier then you should have brought it to our attention. We cannot be mindful of or preparing for risks that we are not aware of and that is part of your duty just as much as looking for those that may wish to do us harm. Do you understand?”

Alexander stood straight, jaw tight, and took it, “Yes sir.”

“If you do not communicate with us and withhold knowledge then how are we able to trust you, especially when our lives are in your hands?”

“Mondatta—“ Zenyatta began, trying to gentle him, but the elder Omnic remained firm and watched them with his impassive face. 

Alexander and Rodney remained silent.

“That was not a rhetorical question,” Mondatta said, “I want an answer. How can we trust our protectors when they remain silent?”

“You can’t,” Rodney admitted first, “We fucked up. Sorry sirs.”

“No harm has been done,” Zenyatta murmured, a note of apprehension in his voice, but he was watching Mondatta.

Mondatta was watching Alexander.

“I—“ he faltered, “I’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say.

Mondatta nodded slowly, “Then like our security director, consider this your warning as well.”

\--

This was a job, Alexander reminded himself after that. 

No matter how charmed or curious or awed he was by these Omnics and their hope he had to remember that this was a job. Security jobs were always easier when there was some emotional distance. Not just for his employers, he knew, but for himself as well. Strange soft moments and coffee made for him personally had addled him for a few months, but this was, he remembered now, a job. He was hired to do a task. No more. For self-preservation, this was just a job.

Weeks afterwards, Alexander chanted in his head like a mantra.

_This is just a job_ , he reminded himself as he watched Mondatta as he meditated with his brothers and sisters, always with the Omnic.

_This is just a job_ , he reminded himself when Mondatta stopped in a new city, looking around with curiosity and a quiet sense of wonder and appreciation for things he’d clearly never seen before. 

_This is just a job_ , he reminded himself firmly when Mondatta stood uncannily still in those moments before his speeches, mind clearly locked on the next few minutes.

_This is just a job_ , he reminded himself with determination when Mondatta laughed, the sound chiming and surprised when Zenyatta said something to startle out his sense of humor like a surprised bird.

_This. Is. Just. A. Job._ He reminded himself in desperation when he found Mondatta in lone meditation, still and lit by a stray sunbeam, his array blue and bright and his faceplate nearly glowing in the light. 

_Halo,_ he thought inanely at the time, _it looks like his head is lit from behind by a halo._

\--

They were in Italy, on the Amalfi coast between destinations and engagements. It was a welcome break they had built in some time for and were taking the long way to arrive, so to speak. The Omnics made rather charming and hilarious tourists. Zenyatta had gone off with a few of his brothers and sisters to explore, dragging a very tired Rodney and a chunk of the rest of security staff. Mondatta had begged off the spontaneous adventure and instead went to find a quiet spot outside in the balmy nighttime air to meditate before he retired to hibernate for the night. 

Alexander stood behind him as the monk settled into a calm lotus, one ear on the chatter over his comm. and both eyes out for trouble just in case. Normally this stretch of time was a quiet moment for him to collect himself as well, one he looked forward to greatly. For a sect of monks, they were terribly busy.

But this evening something was off. 

The Omnic wasn’t meditating. Alexander was a little startled by how easily he could tell. Mondatta was seated in lotus and assumed his normal meditative position, but he was decidedly not meditating. His head tilted every so often and there were slight adjustments in the components of his body, restless movements. 

Alexander wasn’t homesick, nor had he ever been homesick in his life, but he knew what it looked like and he could tell Mondatta was. Not that the Omnic wasn’t glad for every moment spent trying to better things for his people or offering what he’s learned, but this is the longest they’d ever been without returning the monks back to their home in Nepal. For the last several weeks Alexander caught him looking up and he knew with a frightening kind of certainty that Mondatta was imagining mountains and pennant-capped spires of stone in his mind’s eye. 

Tonight he seemed consumed by it, in his own silent way. 

Alexander took a deep breath, _this is just a—_

Mondatta seemed to sag a bit, and a soft sound escaped him, barely audible, but it was very nearly a forlorn sigh.

_Screw it,_ Alexander decided, giving up, _this hasn’t just been a job for a while._

“Another month and you return to Nepal,” Alexander said quietly. 

He wondered fleetingly if he should’ve kept his mouth shut in the instant that Mondatta turned to look at him, that unchanging faceplate regarding him in silence. Then the monk beckoned to him, “Join me, Mr. Alexander. You can watch over me just as easily sitting next to me as standing behind.”

So he did, sitting awkwardly on the mat the monk had laid out, knowing he’d have a hell of a time ironing his pants out. 

“I think I may be a touch homesick,” The Omnic admitted.

Alexander nodded, because he’d known. He’d _known._ “You miss the mountains.”

“I miss the mountains,” Mondatta agreed. “I like looking up at the stars. We have only been through the northern hemisphere this trip, and no matter what, the stars are the same here as they are in the mountains. I look up and see the same chart of the night sky, no matter where I am. It is comforting, and makes the world manageably small for a moment.”

“I would’ve thought you enjoyed knowing how vast and unfathomable the universe is,” Alexander said.

“I do enjoy that,” Mondatta replied, “I love how endless life and existence are, but there are times I need it to be smaller. Something more easily held and hoped for.”

“I think I understand,” Alexander said after a moment, nodding. 

“You do,” Mondatta murmured softly, a touch wondering, “You do.”

\--

Alexander took a slow breath, reminded himself this wasn’t a job, that this was important and knocked on Mondatta’s door. It was early, earlier than they normally came together in the mornings and when Mondatta called for his entrance he was only just rising from the mat he used while meditation. “Ah, Mr. Alexander. You are early today. I apologize, it is a speech day but I have not had time to make your coffee.”

Alexander took a breath and held out the piece of paper, “Here.”

“What is this?” Mondatta wondered and took it, face shifting as he read, laughter startling from his voice box. “Horoscopes?” 

Alexander fought off a grin turning the corner of his mouth, “Stars.”

Mondatta laughed again, the sound free and delighted and wholly surprised and it did something treacherous in the space of Alexander’s chest. “So it is. I have never looked at one of these before. Let me find mine… Capricorn…” He paused when he read it and made a soft sound before reading aloud, “If trouble should darken your door today, then surely your guardian angel will come to your rescue.” He paused, a strangled sound of amusement clogging up his voice before continuing. “Unlike others who may waste their life running after impossible goals, you will find contentment with your achievements. But that does not imply that you aren’t ambitious as well. Your ambitions will be simple in nature, just like you, but that doesn’t mean they will not elicit awe among people.”

Alexander thought he could count the number of times he’d heard Mondatta laugh on his fingers. 

“Well hopefully my stars are onto something, hmm?” he chuckled again, “When were you born, Mr. Alexander? What is your sign?”

He blinked, “May Eighteenth, sir.”

“Let us see then, Taurus…” he peered down the list and read, “You find that you're getting extra pleasure from your work these days, Taurus, or when you go out of your way to help and support others. Your supportive role isn’t always acknowledged, but today might be your day for recognition. Even if you don't receive thanks, you can have a strong sense of being useful. You take pride in your usefulness.” Mondatta chuckled as he finished.

Alexander snorted, “A workaholic hmm? Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Well I can certainly make sure that yours is true today, Mr. Alexander, silly though they are,” Mondatta said, amused warmth in his voice, “Thank you. Thank you for your hard work to make certain that I am safe and whole and my brothers and sisters as well. Moreover, thank you for supporting me,” he held up the piece of paper in meaning, “For wanting my personal wellbeing to be as wholesome as my physical.”

Alexander cleared his throat, not accustomed to such praise, and especially not from Mondatta, “You’re welcome sir. I was glad to do it.”

Mondatta nodded, “Hopefully we only have good things in both our stars,” he said, folding the paper, and—to Alexander’s surprise—didn’t toss it in the garbage but tucked it away safely. 

“I hope so, sir,” he agreed. 

Mondatta laid a hand on his arm, “Thank you, Mr. Alexander. Now, how about we see to your coffee hmm?” 

\--

After that, whenever Mondatta had a cup of coffee for Alexander, he traded it by giving Mondatta a horoscope and listening to him laugh while he sipped the hot drink. 

\--

The next break they had when the monks returned to Nepal and Alexander flew back to the States—he probably spent a total of two nights in his own apartment—the night he arrived and the night before he left again. The other days his mother put him to task around her house while she worked and made him cook for her. 

He realized quite suddenly, as he drank coffee one morning, while he made breakfast that it didn’t taste quite right. 

“Fess up, kiddo,” His mother said, taking one look at his him. “What’s put that weird look on your weird face?”

He snorted and took another sip. Still strange. “Just thinking about work.”

She rolled her eyes, “The Omnics again, Al?” she reached to take a big scoop of the scramble he’d made. “Alright, I wanna hear all about it, but over breakfast. I’m starving.”

\--

It was this next mission trip the Shambali took out in the world that was very different from those before in a significant way. They traveled around still gave speeches, Mondatta giving lectures to crowds at large and Zenyatta challenging smaller groups to think and feel and discuss and understand. 

But the difference was this time people started televising it, recording it, putting it on the ‘net and news and radio, more officially than some transcription of the speech or poor phone video. 

They had already been getting increased notice as it was but once Mondatta and Zenyatta’s faces appeared for the first time on video—broadcast everywhere—then awareness _skyrocketed._

It was a double-edged sword. 

Suddenly instead of speaking to handfuls of people at a time they spoke to thousands. _Millions_ even. More people took notice of the Omnic push for rights. This was excellent news for the monks.

This was terrible news for their security. 

Mondatta and Zenyatta watched with the other traveling monks when their first speech was rebroadcast after the live streaming and Alexander and Rodney shared a few sips off the Canadian’s flask in the back of the room quietly. Technically still on-duty and unprofessional, but their job was about to get a lot harder.

They came to an agreement and set their schedules so they would never both be off at the same time. Security Chief Wilkinson had improved some after he was issued his warning, but it was a tight, vindictive improvement. Some measures he stepped up on, did his job as he was supposed to but he tightened down in other, less productive ways; less time for the monks to volunteer, to venture out and see the world they wanted to help, to speak to the Omnics they sought to aid. But there were still gaps, still issues, still a struggle to try and fight through to do their jobs properly. Coming just after the sudden explosion of exposure, something was going to get through.

Alexander hated being right more often than not in this line of work.

Sure enough, eventually something did. 

Mondatta was mere minutes from taking the stage at an event Mexico, the venue within spitting distance from the prime LumeriCo Power plant, like a ziggurat of light in the night sky. This speech would not be televised, but the crowd was thick and the air was thicker with chanting for Mondatta to take the stage. 

Mondatta was speaking softly to Zenyatta about something, likely planning the after event where Zenyatta had started to take over, both because he was quite good at interpersonal interaction, and to take the stress of it off Mondatta, who was not.

If Alexander had been watching his charge like he was supposed to he would’ve missed it entirely. 

Team two patrolled down the far end of the interior perimeter they kept and Alexander frowned as the check in didn’t follow on schedule, so team three wasn’t there to move when they should’ve—a gap in security. 

A tall Caucasian man in a gray suit strode right through the gap. 

Alexander’s eyes narrowed behind his red sunglasses and he was moving before he even thought about it. “Rodney and Helga, cover One and Two. Calling for back-up at quadrant four. We have a possible breach, do not let One go on stage.”

“Copied,” Rodney agreed, “Holding down.”

Alexander hurried forward, eyes on his quarry, “Excuse me, sir?” He called out, “I’m going to need to see your badge please, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The man smiled politely, “Oh, no problem, let me get it,” And reached his hand into his jacket. 

Alexander moved, his firearm coming up and leveled directly at the interloper’s head. He knew what a shoulder holster looked like underneath a suit jacket. “Freeze, do _not_ move, hands where I can see them.”

Slowly the man withdrew his hand and raised both, “Hey, come on now—“

“Not one move,” Alexander said, adrenaline coursing through him. He did not want to have to pull the trigger. But he would if he had to.

He heard footsteps and Trish came up next to him, her gun raised as well, “Team two has him, Alexander.” Luka came up behind him and began to roughly frisk him, finding the firearm beneath quickly, the interloper’s face quickly settling into a scowl. 

Alexander didn’t lower his weapon yet, “Threat in custody. Rodney, status on One.”

Rodney’s voice came in as a disgusted growl, “One has taken the stage.”

Alexander’s heart nearly stopped before it picked up double-time. “What?”

\--

With the potential threat in custody Alexander charged back over to the stage. Adrenaline still churned through his blood and he vibrated with instinct and fury. Zenyatta was standing back, Rodney next to him, head tilted in concentration, listening to radio chatter.

“Who the fuck let him go out there?” Alexander hissed.

Rodney glanced up at him, a hard frown under the slant of his facial hair, “Wilkinson did, he said the threat was handled.”

“Is everything alright?” Zenyatta asked, clearly understanding what had happened or been told outright by Rodney

Alexander shook with the force of his anger, “Mondatta is _my responsibility_.” He whirled, looking out towards the stage, the sound of Mondatta’s voice filtering in through the red haze of his anger, “There could be others, if there’s another shooter he’s a sitting target, we need to get him off—“

“I thought you said the threat was handled, Mr. Alexander?”

He turned, hard scowl on his face to find Wilkinson, “We handled what got through your late checks and subsequent security gaps, but who knows what else is out there!”

Wilkinson favored him with an unimpressed look, “If there were then local security would be handling it, we have rooftop teams that will deal with anything that tries.”

“It’s too great a risk—“

“It’s _my_ decision, Alexander—“

“Protecting One is _my_ responsibility—“

“But it’s not your _call—_ “

_“Enough,”_ A flash of power had them both turning to find Zenyatta, hands folded before him, but his two index fingers tapped together in a show of impatience, and his orbs pulsed violet. Alexander gulped, he’d never heard the calm Omnic so short or seen such a display of leashed _power_. “Quite enough,” he continued, “It is now Mr. Alexander’s call. Mr. Wilkinson, your contract is terminated effective immediately. Ms. Vogt, if you would escort him from the premises, please.”

Helga came up next to Wilkinson, “Let’s go.”

“You can’t—!” He protested.

“I can,” Zenyatta affirmed and turned to Alexander, “For the time being, you are in charge, Mr. Alexander. Get my brother off the stage.”

“Gladly,” Alexander said, grim, and made the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure someone is going to come rolling in and disagree with my decision about who has what sign, but I did the best I could with the information available to me. 
> 
> Gonna try and get back on the regular update thing because the good news is that the introduction of this story is now almost over. 
> 
> Yeah, after all of that shit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> Alexander and the team accompany the Shamabali Monks around the world, watching as their notoriety (and opposition) grow. Mondatta and Alexander grow closer by small moments and inches and long hours together, even as things get stressed and tested under negligent direction. Things come to a head and the Security Head the Shamabli had chosen is let go abruptly, leaving Alexander to fill in the power vacuum temporarily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy not dead, niffty.
> 
> I decided last minute that I wanted to add scenes and move things around in this chapter and ended up going through a slow process of rewriting things and adding lots and lots of new chunks. The result is that this chapter ended up being so massive I cut it in two. This is the first part.
> 
> The bad news about this is that we have to wait till next chapter to finally get to some juicy bits. 
> 
> I'm gonna try not to go AWOL again. Between the worst block I think I've ever had, some health issues I'm getting treatment for, and a new puppy in the house, I'm just behind on everything.

The rest of their travels were cut short and the Shambali made a return to Nepal and the isolation of their mountain temple. They had some reorganizing to do and needed to take a careful look at the way they wanted to move forward. Lessons had been learned by all. 

The difference was that this time, Alexander went back with them. Most of the team took the break in their duties to return to their homes and families, wherever they were world over. But Alexander remained.

Mondatta had specifically asked him to stay, apologizing for requesting it as normally the Shambali’s breaks were his as well. However, as this was still technically during a time when he would be on duty; he was glad enough to give the time where it was needed. With him serving as the interim Security Head they wanted him around while they restructured. 

It was easier for Alexander anyway. He had his mother, but no other family, no spouse or children waiting for him at home through long absences, unlike Rodney whose long-term girlfriend somehow tolerated seeing him only between assignments and ventures. 

He hadn’t been back to their little section of Nepal since he’d come out to interview, though fortunately he still had all his cold-weather gear. The monk’s arrival was greeted in the village with much excitement, and it wasn’t until Zenyatta had laughed at him and told him to relax that he realized he’d been tense and _working_ as he watched Mondatta like a hawk within the throng of villagers that came out to welcome them back. 

“We are safe here,” Zenyatta said softly, “Allow yourself to relax, Mr. Alexander.”

He wasn’t sure he knew how to relax around Mondatta, but he did try. 

After the village they ascended the mountain, stopping in the shrine, many of the monks taking moments to pray or mediate, glad to be home. From there they headed up the trail towards the monastery itself. 

Alexander kept pace with Mondatta by sheer willpower alone, badly winded with the cold and the thin air but unwilling to fall behind.

Seeing the temple itself was like a flush of energy straight into his limbs, seeing the end of their trek in sight, but also the view of the tall spires and trailing pennants, he felt a bit out of time, that lost wonderment he’d first felt on his first trip flooding him all over again.

He watched Mondatta—he was always watching Mondatta—and saw the same instant the Shambali leader spotted the temple for the first time and how his entire posture seemed to relax just marginally.

It was amazing seeing that moment, the palpable shift in thought—being home—especially when Alexander knew himself he’d never really had such a moment. He certainly never felt it when he returned to his apartment, didn’t really feel it when he returned to his mother’s house either, heavy with memories. 

Alexander felt a brush of cold then that had nothing to do with the mountain wind. 

No wonder he never got homesick.

\--

He stayed in the same room he had been on his last visit and gleefully didn’t set an alarm, intending to sleep in if he wasn’t needed.

He woke up with the dawn, of course, and cursed the habits his body had fallen into. 

He trudged to the ancient kitchen and made himself some coffee then frowned through his morning when it didn’t taste right either. What the hell was Mondatta doing to his coffee that nothing else tasted right afterward?

He snorted and shook his head, “Omnics,” he muttered and watched the sunrise, enjoying the play of red and gold over the mountains. 

\--

“Would you like to see them?”

Alexander started and blinked, seeing Zenyatta holding out one of his orbs to him. “Ah, what?” He saw Mondatta turn his attention to the exchange as well out of his peripherals, setting down the tablet he’d been using.

“My mala—the orbs. You keep staring at them. I wanted to offer the chance to get a closer look and assuage your curiosity. It must have taken you by surprise, back in Mexico.”

Hesitantly—because he had been curious—Alexander reached out, taking the golden orb, resting inert and still in his palm. It was made of metal and seemed solid and dense but was surprisingly light weight. His large fingers brushed over the intricate etching along the metal, tracing the rigid whorls so carefully set into the interlocking parts. Strangely, it was warm in his hands. 

“They’re beautiful,” He complimented softly and meant it. He offered it back.

“Thank you,” Zenyatta said, warm, the orb lighting and lifting right out of Alexander’s outstretched hand to float back into rotation. 

“What are they exactly?” The blond couldn’t help but wonder. 

“Mm,” Zenyatta made a soft considering sound. “They are tools. Through them I am able to channel the Omnic energy that any of us has and alter it to suit my needs. It is particularly sensitive to feelings and the expression of discordant thought and harmonious intent.”

Alexander squinted faintly, uncertain what that was supposed to mean, exactly. “So when they flashed purple—“

“I was rather upset at the time. A slip in my control.”

Of course Zenyatta’s upset would be more collected than the calm of most people. “Can the others do it as well?”

“Not all,” Zenyatta said. “But all here are learning. Some make greater progress than others.”

“How did you learn?” He couldn’t help but wonder. “How did you know you could even do this?”

Zenyatta chuckled, “That is not a question for me, but rather for him.” He gestured next to him where Mondatta stood.

“Years upon years of dedication to the art of letting go and finding mental and emotional tranquility.” Mondatta spoke slowly, as if this was not something he was certain he wished to try and frame in words. “And then… necessity. After the crisis when prejudice against my people was at the greatest peaks. There was need for comfort and healing in the offering of harmony, and self-defense without violence with the use of inflicting discord, often enough the sensation enough to drive assailants or would-be attackers away. Zenyatta here, though far younger and new to the order in comparison to some of the other senior monks, took to it easily, and has found other ways in which the energy can be made to react to the world, interacting with matter as though it were a physical object itself. It is something he knows to have great care with.” The last words were said in a clearly long-tread warning.

It made sense. If people thought that Omnics could train themselves to be living weapons—

Zenyatta laughed softly, “Better to know and lead by example.” 

Mondatta simply inclined his head, the argument one he had long given up hope of winning. 

“So you,” Alexander worked to process everything, gesturing at Mondatta, “can do everything that he can? Or most everything.”

“I can,” Mondatta affirmed. 

“But you don’t use the orbs that Zenyatta does? The physical golden ones?” He asked and Mondatta shook his head negatively. The next question was out of his mouth before he even really had time to think it through. “So which of you is better at it, then?”

Zenyatta laughed brightly and Mondatta shook his head, turning his attention back to his tablet, but still replied. “Neither of us can truly be said to outmatch the other. I perhaps started things but he grew to match me. We remain as equals.”

Alexander frowned a bit, his curiosity a living thing inside him, clearly not sure how such a thing could be true. “But—“

“Consider it like this,” Mondatta said, turning his full attention back to his bodyguard. “Zenyatta plays an instrument with great skill. I am an accomplished singer and use no tool to make music. Could you say definitively which of us is the better musician simply because our methods differ?”

Alexander blinked and shook his head, “No, that makes sense, sir.”

Mondatta nodded and seemed to consider the matter dropped. 

Alexander turned to Zenyatta, “Would you show me later, if you’re willing? I’d like to know more certainly what we’re talking about here in the interest of making certain we’re all informed.” It was, after all, a lesson he’d learned most keenly. 

Zenyatta brightened and nodded, “I would be happy to, Mr. Alexander. Perhaps, since I know you have been using a practice weapon to keep your aim sharp, we could spar in a contest of accuracy?”

“Do not agree to that,” Mondatta warned mildly, fingers tapping ever-so gently against the tablet. “He cheats.”

“He lies,” Zenyatta countered.

Alexander smiled fondly. Brothers. Machine or not he doubted anyone could convince him that their brotherhood only extended through their faith. “Sure. I’d love to see exactly what you mean by ‘interacting with matter’. And I have very little to do until you decide what you wish to do about the security position and we depart again.”

Mondatta gave him a long, considering look and nodded slowly. “You know, Mr. Alexander, I believe I do know what we shall do.” 

\--

Alexander didn’t know if it could be considered cheating or not, but the blue orbs Zenyatta threw out with such force were paired with a dead-shot accuracy, punching easily into the center of the target. After the fact it did occur to Alexander that it was probably pretty foolish to challenge something as hyper-calculated as a machine to such a contest. But it had been entertaining and enlightening nevertheless.

Even after Zenyatta left he continued to drill his accuracy; he never wanted his skill to fall to rustiness. Not when it could be the difference between life and death in an emergency. Live ammo wasn’t an option for drills here, the noise a possible risk factor for an avalanche, but he used small plastic pellets with a weapon that mimicked the weight and accuracy of his regular firearm. As Trish lovingly called them, ‘fancy-ass airsoft guns’. 

Somewhere between the morning and the afternoon Mondatta and Zenyatta regrouped and found him later that day still at the practice range, and he could admit he felt a little trepidation being effectively cornered by the both of them. 

“What can I do for your, sirs?” He looked between them and wished they had faces. He was getting pretty good at reading them but these two could close up like stone when they wanted to. 

“As I’m certain you expected, in light of all the recent upheaval we wanted to speak to you about your position and your future with the Shambali,” Mondatta said.

Alexander swallowed, he’d known of course that this was coming. “Of course, anything you want.”

“We know your primary duty is to protect Mondatta, but after Wilkinson’s sudden contract termination, you took over coordinating all security operatives. That was quite a lot of responsibility, effectively managing two separate positions,” Zenyatta told him. 

He nodded and braced himself, knowing he’d be asked to give up one and not sure which he was willing to relinquish—Mondatta’s personal safety or his own desire to try and control the safety of all the monks and the stability of all the security—“I was glad to do it.”

“And we are grateful,” Mondatta replied, “But now that we have time to take a look at our own structure and organization I am afraid we wish to ask something difficult of you.”

Alexander nodded and held his breath. 

“We were hoping you would be willing to continue to act in both positions,” He continued.

Alexander blinked, _what_?

“We know it is a great deal to ask of one man, but we have several of our staff remark that they felt more comfortable with your direction and you have already proven yourself as Mondatta’s closest guardian,” Zenyatta picked up, “The increased responsibilities will be difficult but—“

“I’ll do it,” he said immediately.

“—You will be compensated appropriately—Ah, you will?” Zenyatta seemed to straighten, his back tensing up in surprise.

Mondatta just tilted his head ever-so-slightly. 

“I would be glad to,” he said, a smile pressing at the edges of his mouth. He actually meant it.

\--

Zenyatta told him later the real reason he was offered to keep both positions was because Mondatta was a stubborn old piece of junk and refused outright to see getting a new personal guard. His words. 

Alexander should probably have felt something other than glad and grateful for it.

\--

The first person he wanted to tell about his permanent appointment to being the head of Shambali security was actually Rodney, and he waited for an hour appropriate for the time difference between Nepal and Canada to catch him.

“No way!” Rodney laughed hard as Alexander finished telling him. “Good though! You worked your ass off there taking that mantle up suddenly. Long as you’re happy puttin’ in the work then damn, you deserve it. Don’t think they could bring anyone in more dedicated than you, anyway.”

Alexander grinned brightly, a steady joy pulsing through his chest, excited for all that was to come. “Thanks. I am, happy I mean. I really am.”

“Good,” Rodney said firmly. “Most that matters. Though…” He trailed off a moment, “Ah shit. I guess you’re the one I have to tell this to first then, boss.”

Alexander blinked and frowned, straightening a bit, realizing that their dynamic had to shift for whatever his friend had to say. “What?”

“This is out of the blue, and I’m sorry as hell for it, but… well, let’s consider this my two weeks notice then.”

Alexander’s mouth worked, “I—you’re quitting?”

“Retiring from this bodyguard-protection business,” He said ruefully. “You know Deirdre, my darling girlfriend that I return back home to visit?”

Alexander nodded numbly a bit, fingers idly tapping out a diamond pattern against his thigh, then realized that he was an idiot and Rodney couldn’t see him, “Yeah, of course.”

“Well… she’s pregnant. And she wants to keep it, and I… I do too.” There was a soft reverence to his voice and Alexander had a feeling that ‘I do too’ was putting things lightly. 

“You’re going to have a family,” Alexander said slowly, a warm smile splitting his face even as a lingering selfish ounce of disappointment bubbled in his gut. 

“Yeah,” Rodney said, “Yeah I am. Deirdre proposed to me and dammit, I said yes.”

Alexander laughed aloud at this and that disappointment bubbled away and was gone. “Oh my God, Rodney.”

“She got down on one knee and everything,” He laughed through his teeth but Alexander could hear his genuine happiness and delight at the engagement. 

“Did you pop your foot?” He asked, grinning and teasing mercilessly. “I bet you cried.”

“I—“ Rodney sputters, embarrassed, _“I did not!”_

“Holy shit, you totally cried.”

“You’re an asshole, Alexander,” Rodney accused. “Make it up to me by being my best man at the wedding.”

That stopped his laughter rather quickly. “I—really? You want me to?”

“Yeah, of course I do. You’re the best friend I’ve got. Dickhead.”

“You need more friends,” Alexander said, laughing softy, touched and feeling warm, “Of course I will.”

“Good,” Rodney said, “I’d say the rest of the stooges could come too, but someone’ll have to keep watch over the ‘bots, and I think we’re keeping the ceremony small.”

“Hey, whatever you want, it’s your big day.”

“You’re an asshole. But damn right it’s my day.”

It was a blow to the team Alexander had wanted to create and lead, but he wasn’t going to begrudge his friend happiness in this new chapter in Rodney’s life. 

\--

The first time he sat down with all his personnel as the permanent lead of the security team it wasn’t actually in person. Still scattered about the world, they all joined a conference call to discuss how things would move forward for them as a unit and to talk about the changes that were coming with the upheaval and reorganization. When Alexander first dialed in the team cheered and offered him congratulations and glad sentiments. He laughed and grinned and when they all quieted down, he told them the most important thing, “No one is getting fired. I want the same team I’ve been with since the start.”

They cheered again enough that his speaker distorted the sound, someone shouting ‘Yeah, because he knows we’re good with our firearms!’ 

He laughed with the rest, “That is true. But the first thing I wanted to do was open up the floor to any issues you’ve been having. I don’t want to have to sit in silence when there’s a problem again.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a problem alright,” Trish said and a few others laughed softly, clearly in on whatever ongoing complaint.

He nodded, taking it seriously, “Of course.”

“We have got to do something about the ‘bots callsigns,” She complained, everyone laughing as if she’d delivered a punchline. “What? One and Two are fucking awful.”

Alexander chuckled, “A fair point. Any suggestions?”

“Actually, I’d kind of like to know what you’d pick, since you’ve been living in their pockets,” Helga pointed out. 

“Yeah! Let’s hear it, Chief!” 

Alexander laughed it off for a moment, but one word stuck in his mind with insistence. “Halo,” He said finally, “Mondatta is Halo.”

There was a chorus of ‘ooohs’ and some appreciative murmuring.

“That’s a good one,” Trish nodded, “Better than One, at any rate.”

“But what does that make Zenyatta?”

“Oh I know!” Luka snapped his fingers, “How about Glory?”

Alexander blinked a bit, “Glory?”

“Yeah! Like—Okay, a halo is the disk around the head, yeah? Glory is the aura around the body. In like, classical paintings and shit,” Luka was nodding.

Everyone stared at him, Alexander included.

“What?” he protested, “I’m an intelligent person. I know things.”

Trish laughed outright at him, “That’s a change.”

“Fuck you guys,” Luka sulked without real offense, “I almost studied art.”

The crew laughed and Alexander smiled, “Alright. Halo and Glory.”

\-- 

Alexander was always steadfast by Mondatta’s side, but after Rodney’s departure Zenyatta found himself in need of a new bodyguard. The Shambali handled their own affairs for the most part, deciding where they traveled, who they associated with, and who they hired, but this time, perhaps as a favor to him either because he was new to this or that they valued his input, Mondatta and Zenyatta brought the candidates they’d been most interested in to him for vetting. 

In the end of the four possible candidates they’d been considering and the two brought in to interview in Kathmandu, Alexander selected a Russian woman named Nika Morozov. She was severe and controlled, and she didn’t speak English as well as he’d have liked, but she was a crack shot, followed orders to the letter, and—miracle of miracles—was actually one of the few people with pro-Omnic sentiment he’d ever met out of Russia. She also spoke fluent Nepali, and while that wasn’t a necessity with the Omnics’ vast range of languages to pull from, the thought of mountains and homesickness and quiet temple halls had him dwelling on it. 

After meeting her for the first time he did express his slight concern about the language barrier to Mondatta and Zenyatta. It wasn’t enough to give him pause and he knew that they’d figure out a way to communicate quickly, even if it was just a little give of a few words on both their parts. 

But Mondatta just hummed softly and the two brothers exchanged a glance that was pure trouble. 

“You could always learn Nepali,” Zenyatta suggested, tone entirely too innocent. 

“I don’t think I have time for classes or to reliably use some sort of learning software with any regularity,” Alexander protested feebly.

“Mr. Alexander, you are traveling with a contingent of monks that are all fluent in the language. I hardly believe finding a vehicle for your learning will pose any kind of problem,” Mondatta pointed out. 

“Oh,” the blond blinked once, slowly. “That. Is true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy I'm also going to the Overwatch League Grand Finals this weekend! My team actually made it too! FUCK YEAH FUSION.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> Alexander takes over coordination and control of the Shamabli's security team following Wilkinson's sudden termination. He learns about Zenyatta's orbs and has to say farewell to a friend as Rodney retires from security work to start a family. In his place they've hired a Russian woman to protect Zenyatta, but there's a language barrier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who commented to poke my twitching, half-dead corpse and got me moving again. I won't be updating again until after Nano chews me up and spits me out, but I'm going to try and get back to something approaching regular after that. 
> 
> So, good news and bad news.
> 
> Bad news is I did last minute heavy editing of this chapter and it shows, there's ugly exposition chunks where I rerouted things. Once this is finished I want to go back and fix them and turn them into micro scenes, but I figured better to get this out than waffle on it.
> 
> Good news is we get to finally start earning that 'E' rating, though only a little bit. You like guilty masturbation and mutual pining? Me too.

Nika worked out better and worse than Alexander could’ve hoped. She was the exact fit he was hoping for when it came to serving Zenyatta. She was careful, attentive, and sharp as the knife he’d seen her stash in her shoe. She also followed orders to the letter without question or complaint, and could keep up with their demanding schedule. She was perfect. 

The only downside was that she did not mesh with the existing crew well, he noticed. It wasn’t that there was any friction necessarily or disagreement, but the language barrier proved a bigger challenge than first expected and it was terribly embarrassing having to ask the monks he was supposed to be working for to translate for him. She picked up a few words and phrases quickly like ‘all clear’, ‘break’, and ‘off duty’, but the rest was harder to signal. There was also little effort on her part to try and communicate in English at all. 

Even Trish, for all that she could be abrasive, liked to get to know people, and Nika had very little interest in interacting with her. A lot of the crew had lost money on Trish’s failure to connect. 

It wasn’t until Alexander, armed with his stubborn determination and the barest bits he’d managed to glean so far from trying to learn Nepali, staggered through a stilted conversational attempt that actually left her laughing. 

He felt fairly good about that, even if he was certain she hadn’t understood a word. But she grinned and gave him a thumbs up, and said, “I try, da?” 

She joined Alexander when he was learning Nepali after that, actually looking eager for the chance to speak to a coworker. In exchange Alexander sat in while she attempted to learn more English. Not that he was much help, but his presence seemed to bolster her confidence and always seemed to tickle whichever monk was teaching. 

Slowly more and more of the team began to trickle into the language sessions, until everyone who wasn’t on duty was slowly puttering about their vocabulary, trying to pick up more.

Alexander felt it was a good unofficial team building exercise, and while his group was close for the most part, he would never turn down the chance to tune that connection just a little tighter. 

He’d been a bit worried that the crew would have a tough time adapting to his shift in position, going from equal to superior overnight and had been prepared to deal with them suddenly keeping their distance from him metaphorically, understood it even. But the group surprised him again—surprised him as they always did—falling into line when it came to dealing with Alexander the security head, but they never forgot he was Alexander the person too. The dumb blond who worked too many hours, was particular about his coffee and his suit, and whose mother nagged him to have hobbies.

And then it wasn’t that much longer before Alexander and most of the team could add an anniversary to his service with the Shambali. One year down. He’d never really found a point to celebrating such benchmarks in his career before, but with these people and for this purpose—it seemed appropriate. Something worth celebrating. 

They’d been in Canada at the time and spent a chill evening huddled up with cake and alcohol, and sent poor drunk Luka to take a piece of cake to the Omnics, because they were all a little tipsy by that point and thought it was hilarious.

In the morning they found out the Omnics had really liked the gesture and Zenyatta kept the candle. 

Their trip in Canada finished Alexander took a chunk of his vacation days and headed elsewhere in the country as promised to visit Rodney. 

Rodney and his fiancé Deirdre were settling into domestic life together disgustingly well. They fought like wet hens but none of it had any venom, and arguments usually ended with them laughing. Deirdre was just as formidable as all the stories he’d been told about her, but had a deep well of care in her heart when it came to family. He was desperately glad she liked him. 

Rodney also insisted that they taught him how to fish. He near froze there in Canada, but came away with fond memories of laughter and fish dinner and nearly pushing Rodney out of the boat. In the months after his resignation, Rodney had gotten into masonry, joining his father doing in a family trade. He was a fair hand at it, but Alexander managed to get him to admit he missed the long days of following Omnics around. 

On video no less. Zenyatta was delighted when he sent it to him. 

Alexander finished the trip by being Rodney’s Best Man at their wedding, a small affair of only close friends and family at a local church. It was probably one of Alexander’s proudest moments.

Upon his return to service he showed the pictures—Fishing, Rodney and Deidre, the wedding—to Mondatta and Zenyatta and they both poured over them with terribly charming curiosity and interest, both making soft sounds of joy at Rodney’s big, stupid smile at Deidre in his wedding photos, the Irish woman looking up at him with an endlessly fond grin. 

Mondatta paused over one of the three of them in their wedding attire, Rodney in a tailored slate suit with a lighter gray vest and darker tie, Deirdre in her flowing wedding gown, her fiery hair braided through with Queen Anne’s Lace, like a dusting of snow, belly starting to show the child that would be born to them, and Alexander wearing a crisp black suit with a dark red vest, black shirt, and matching red tie and pocket square. 

“You look very striking in the red and black,” Mondatta said absently, almost as if he wasn’t even paying attention to them.

“Doesn’t he?” Zenyatta said, but there was an odd note of teasing to his voice, and Alexander wasn’t sure if he should be offended. 

Mondatta went very still.

\--

“—Like a deer in the headlights. It was the weirdest thing,” He laughed softly as he spoke with his mother on the phone, one of the rare moments when their schedules, sometimes half a world apart, managed to line up enough for a call.

“Well you did look handsome in those pictures,” his mother teased him. “Maybe he was just appreciating it too.” 

“Mom,” He said, feeling both scandalized and flushed at the thought of Mondatta appreciating him. Like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been. 

“Much better than that awful suit you wore in your twenties. Your taste in clothing has gotten loads better.”

He laughed at that, his momentary tension easing. “That’s because it fit like a plastic bag. It was a bad suit.” He chuckled, “You know, I bet I still have that thing somewhere in the closet, if I were to look.”

“Jesus, Al. Don’t know what’s in your own closet?”

“Oh, what, like you do?” He snorted.

“Course,” She said, certain. “Because it has about six broken toaster ovens and a record player in there.”

“What the—?”

“They’re for parts. My point stands, kiddo. When was the last time you went home and actually spent time in your own place?” 

This gave Alexander some pause, considering, counting back weeks and months in his mind to try and pinpoint a moment. “Hmm, I can’t remember. Last few times I was back in the US I ended up just staying with you.”

“Right,” She said, and Alexander had a feeling this answer was not a surprise to her. “Lex, you never go home.”

Snow-capped towers, he remembered faintly. Mountains and wind and snow and gorgeous golden sunsets over white peaks. The gentle sound of chimes and an unfamiliarity with the sense of homesickness. “Yeah, well,” He hedged, “I’ve been a bit of a nomad since first left home.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. 

She sighed, the sound a bit broken over questionable reception. “Tell me about it. Look, you’re a grown man, you can make your own choices—you always have regardless—but it seems stupid to pay for the place if you aren’t using it.”

His knee jerk reaction was to dismiss this outright, but he hesitated, chewing his lip. He never went back to his apartment; he didn’t own anything he didn’t carry with him that couldn’t be put into storage. He had no attachment to it. Not really. His fingers tapped idly as he thought, tapping out the points on a diamond. “Yeah, that might not be a bad idea.”

“Wow, you actually agreed with your mother. Let me mark my calendar.”

He snorted, smiling, “Shut up.” He wet his lips idly, nodding to himself. “Yeah, next time I’m in the states… I’ll put the little bit there into storage. Tell the landlord I won’t be renewing.”

“It’d be different if you had someone waiting for you, or someone to take back there,” She hinted unrepentantly. “Like your friend that just got married.”

He groaned, “No, mom. You promised. You _promised_ me, none of that.”

She had the gall to laugh at him, “Right, right, I know. But it’s been a long time since you had anyone for companionship, kiddo. People are like dogs. They need companionship.”

“I’ll get a dog then.”

It made her laugh, “You piece of crap. No wonder you’re my kid. We really are wired the same way.”

Alexander’s throat worked, hearing what wasn’t said, wishing he had something to reply with, but their situations were so different. He’d never found someone to commit his life to and she had found the one she wanted and lost them.

“Maybe you should get a dog then,” He gently deflected and released a breath when she laughed again and the bitterness in his chest eased and she didn’t seem to dwell. 

He didn’t really have a good retort on behalf of himself, because he was happy with his job, even if there wasn’t really time for anyone else. And okay, he very much didn’t mention that he’s basically dating his _hand_ anymore. He’d been dating his hand so long he might want to think about a ring. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like dating or being in love or having someone in his life, it was just hard for him with his lifestyle of choice right now. He’d dated plenty before, but the last time he’d really applied himself had been when he was in the military and at that point Alexander had somewhat wandered emotionally. His SOs were short lived bouts of intimacy that couldn’t truly be called _significant_ in any real way, and none lasted for long enough to leave an impression beyond a lingering disappointment. He didn’t connect easily with other people, his walls were high, and he liked his bit of distance until he could say with certainty he knew someone well. He had meticulous attention to detail and over-focused on his work; he was intense in, according to the women he dated, all the wrong ways; all the non-romantic ways.

And now with his career being what it was he didn’t feel like there was a place for someone in his life that way, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it. A love like his mother’s—who had never remarried and probably never would—made him wonder if he was hardwired the same way. Looking for one person.

On the other hand he wasn’t sure he could imagine doing what Rodney had either, ending one chapter in his life so decisively when that love came knocking, as it were. 

And maybe it was a bit lonely, but for now he was happier not trying to juggle a relationship on top of everything else he was doing. He didn’t think there was such a person that would fit in with this niche he’d carved out, what he was happy doing. He didn’t think there was such a person who would fit into what he had.

Maybe that was what set the whole thing in motion—

That wasn’t true. Perhaps it was the tipping point, but if it hadn’t been that then it would’ve come all the same.

\--

Alexander had a few hours to himself while Mondatta and the other Shambali were in group meditation with a chunk of the security team. 

Summer in Greece was beautiful but they’d been on the coast of the Aegean Sea for a couple of weeks and he couldn’t stop feeling slightly salt-crusted and gladly took the break to indulge in a long, hot shower instead of the short, quick maintenance his showers usually were to stay clean. His hair was getting a bit longer than the short, neat length he preferred and he made a note in his head to get it cut soon, absently lathering over his body. He was going about it mechanically, but he brushed over a nipple one too many times as he scrubbed his chest and shivered a bit, feeling sensitive. 

He debated for a moment and then thought _what the hell_ ; he had time. He tossed the washcloth to the side, using both hands now, teasing over his nipples in the hot shower, eyes slipping closed. 

His thumbs brushed over them, feeling them tingle and pebble even in the heat of the water and he sighed softly, letting his hands wander. One dropped down to slide over his abs, the other idly rubbing the heel of his hand against a nipple. He took his time, teasing against the sensitive skin beneath his navel, shivering as his stomach fluttered, letting his fingers fall slowly. He had time. 

His cock was starting to take notice and he dropped his hand lower, letting his thick fingers cup his balls, squeezing a bit, working them, letting his cock flush and fill, swelling eagerly to full hardness. He gasped softly, feeling sensitive and over-eager at how quickly his cock sprang up at the feeling of his fingers alone. 

His mind wandered, searching for an appealing scenario, tweaking his other nipple now, continuing to tease his balls between his legs, wanting to settle on a fantasy before he took his cock in hand. 

He’d always cum harder when he thought of someone doing things to him, but he had a hard time fantasizing about himself in a scene or with someone, a hard time holding onto such thoughts—his memories and previous encounters were too colored with disappointment to excite him and he usually found it difficult to imagine experiences that he hadn’t experienced—this worked just as well. 

Alexander fisted his cock, feeling it throb, and _oh_ , he really needed this, felt wound tight and knew it wasn’t going to be long, no matter how much time he had. 

He stroked with purpose, his hand easily slipping into the rhythm he liked, flicking his wrist to let his palm rub over the head on the upstroke, groaning and he twitched beneath his own fingers. He never made much noise, but he was alone and had time and he was damn well going to enjoy himself. He let himself gasp and moan unchecked.

Alexander’s cock throbbed, and he shivered as he dripped precum onto the floor of the shower stall, always something of a leaker, messy in sex as he never was elsewhere. His mind got hazy as his blood ran hot, losing control of his weak fantasy, wrapped up in the feeling alone. 

He stroked himself harder, feeling his heavy cock twitch in his grip and he panted, breath lost in the steam of the shower. He shuddered all over, trying to reach for his fantasy again, mind flitting fast as light over possibilities and scenarios, discarding them just as fast as his fist moved against himself relentlessly. 

_“Oh, Alexander,”_

He couldn’t help the choked whimper that caught in his throat as his mind presented a male voice, lost in needy desperation, eager for him—he’d always had a thing for a good voice—and squeezed tightly around his girth, trying to let the fantasy come.

_“Please, Alexander, faster—oh please, I need—“_

He groaned long and low and tried to imagine eager fingers moving over his heavy cock, teasing another thick gush of precum from his slit, anything other than his own blunt fingers.

_“Oh, I cannot believe this is for me,”_ The fantasy voice crooned in his mind and he was shaking now, panting and gasping, _“So hard, Alexander, you are so very hard.”_

“Close,” He moaned aloud to no one, “Close, I’m—“

_“Cum for me, please, cum, I want to see it on me—“_

His hand picked up, racing for the end, eyes tight shut as he fucked into his hand, hips snapping forward into it, balls slapping against his own knuckles with abandon. Good, this was going to be _so good—_

_“Alexander—!”_

—he _knew_ that voice—

“Mondatta!” He choked on his own voice, surprise and lust and realization lacing his tone like drug and like a freight train his orgasm _hit_.

“Hahhh!” He could do little more than lean against the shower wall, eyes squeezed shut, hand jacking his squirting cock like he couldn’t stop, moaning helplessly like he couldn’t hold it back, mind full with a matte white face and brilliant blue diamond array. “Mondatta! Ahh! Mon—! Mondatta!” 

He bit his lip, the name a feverish mantra in his mind as he coated the tile with thick ropes of cum— _Mondatta Mondatta Mondatta_ —

He squeezed himself as the shocks finally faded, leaving him spent and his mind fever-bright in the aftermath, panting like he’d run miles. He opened his eyes to see the spray of water washing the last splatters of his cum from the shower tile and stared at it, blank and uncomprehending for a moment. 

The realization came back in like a tide.

_Oh fuck._

So did panic.

\--

It was good he had time that day, because Alexander had a meltdown.

A small one. 

He sat in his room in nothing but a white hotel towel, red shame staining his cheeks and quietly, privately tried to convince himself it wasn’t worth letting this meltdown go nuclear. 

He discarded his towel and did a few exercises there in the nude. No one could see him and though he’d always enjoyed a jogging and weights kind of workout, right now he needed to _move_ , needed to make his body _work_ so his mind cleared. It was more productive than pacing, and he stared at the floor as he did a set of stretches blankly, letting his thoughts churn. He just didn’t want to do enough that he started sweating again so soon after he’d showered. 

Alexander’s cheeks reddened all over again. 

He cursed and stretched further, bending his upper body over his extended leg. 

He didn’t have enough time to really wear himself out before he had to go back, but he was a little calmer. He redressed slowly and methodically, taking his time, letting himself get lost in the routine of it.

Alexander had only ever dated and been with women in his life, but it wasn’t that Mondatta was male that was giving him stress—he’d been attracted to men before—nor was it really that he was an Omnic. Mondatta was Alexander’s boss as well as the leader of a religion, and possibly some sort of mechanical messiah on top of that. 

Usually he liked change, life often surprised him in good ways as well as bad. But this was—

He didn’t know what this was.

By the time he had dressed and was straightening his tie he managed to convince himself that it was a weird coincidence in the heat of the moment and that he’d just been working for Mondatta for so long and so constantly that the Omnic had just permeated his mind in a moment when he was overwhelmed. Nothing more to it. He could admit he had a fair amount of awe and respect for his employer. It had just bled over for a moment. Everything was fine. 

He slipped his radio back in his ear, ready to head back to work and walked back downstairs to the garden where the Shambali had been meditating and headed out to meet them, feeling confident and settled and ready to get back to his post.

The Shambali had finished by the look of things, standing in small clusters embroiled in discussion and conversation, and Mondatta turned as if he knew he was coming, back straightening just a bit more as they caught sight of one another. “Mr. Alexander!’

_“Alexander—!”_

He gulped at the memory and had never scrambled for his red shades so fast in his life, anything to cover part of his face—

“I was not expecting to see you rejoin us so soon. You looked tired, I had hoped you would manage to rest a bit.”

“Fine,” He cleared his throat, “I’m fine, sir.”

Mondatta nodded, pleased, “Good. I dislike the idea of you run ragged when we have asked so much from you.”

_Get your face under control, Alexander_ , he tried to tell himself desperately. “It’s no problem, sir. Always glad to do it.” 

Mondatta nodded and fuck, Alexander could read the happiness in his posture, like a blinking neon sign. But the Omnic didn’t say anything, just moved his hands from their customary hold behind his back and reached up to squeeze Alexander’s arm gently with strong, metal fingers in affinity.

Fucked, oh God in Heaven, Iris, or _whatever_ , he was so completely fucked.

\--

Sometime when he hadn’t been paying attention to the warmth that gathered in his chest when Mondatta reflected happily at him, the gentle awe and wonder he felt towards the Omnic had caught and lit into some sort of miserable flame.

He watched over Mondatta to protect him, but how long had his eye been tracing the lines on his face in appreciation? How long had he found his gaze drawn to flashes of white or gold?

He’d picked up a tablet of his to review his crew schedule and realized he was making the shape of a diamond as he tapped idly with his stylus. He found little diamonds of nine-points doodled in the margins of everything he touched. 

Alexander was in his thirties and was crushing like he was thirteen. It was appalling.

More than the self-disgust at himself was knowing if he couldn’t let go of his fixation and attachment was that he was only setting himself up for disappointment. Mondatta was not only an Omnic—who knew if they were even attracted to humans—but he was also a monk. The likelihood of him being celibate was pretty high. 

But Alexander had lived a life in which he was used to putting his head to the grind and doing what he had to, regardless of he felt. Mondatta needed his guardian, the Shambali needed their security chief, his team needed their boss, and whatever crisis he was having couldn’t interfere with that. So he worked and didn’t let the fact that Mondatta was gorgeous in the sunlight stop him, or the bubble of anxiety that lodged in his chest when they were alone together and all Alexander could think about was pressing his lips against that white faceplate to see what it felt like. 

Mondatta picked up on his turmoil, because of course he did, but Alexander managed to pass it off as worries for the job or the location every time. Whether or not the Omnic actually believed his fibs Alexander couldn’t say, but eventually the monk seemed to realize that no matter if he asked, the answer was the same, and took to simply offering his own steadfast presence where he could. 

Eventually the panic died down and he turned back into a normal, reasonable human being again.

The adoration, affection, and attraction remained. 

In his moments alone or watching Mondatta at a distance, he felt again that flame within him, and smiled, helpless. 

He was fucked, certainly, but he was happy all the same.

\--

Alexander liked Nepal. He always hated winter and the cold and those months after the new year where it was bleak bleaker bleakest, but somehow he loved it when their travels brought them back around to the mountainous, landlocked, little country. It wasn’t often he spent his weeks off in the mountains with the Omnics, but it had happened more than once since he took Security Lead. He wasn’t sure if he preferred being in Nepal or being in the States more, for different reasons. 

“Good morning, Mr. Alexander.”

Alexander looked up from where he was leaning against the terrace, dressed in a warm pullover—it was nowhere near enough to deal with the persistent Himalayan cold, especially not as dawn was just starting to become an idea over the mountains—and found Mondatta walking toward him, looking pristine and pale as ever. They had arrived back in Nepal about a week ago, and reached the temple only a few short days prior. This was going to be a long stay, the order taking a break to winter in their temple home. Alexander would be staying for most of it, returning home briefly for the holidays, and flying back in before they departed again in the spring. “Good morning, sir.” He blinked as he spotted the earthenware mug in the Omnic’s hold. “Is that for me?”

Mondatta chuckled softly, “Well I certainly cannot drink it,” He offered it out and Alexander took it a touch greedily. 

“What’s the occasion? Usually this is a speech day custom.” He sipped it, letting the hot liquid warm him.

Mondatta huffed, “You are not dressed in nearly enough. I did not want you to freeze.”

Alexander smiled, _Mondatta the worrier making an appearance_ , as Zenyatta often pointed out. “I wasn’t going to be out here long. Just enough to see the sunrise.” He held the mug close, fingers aching as the heat from the cup seeped into his numb skin.

“Well now it will be slightly more comfortable. Drink your coffee.”

Alexander laughed softly, his breath a white puff scattering the surface of the liquid and did as he was told, “Yes sir.” He dug around in his pocket and offered him a piece of paper, “Here. I didn’t get the chance to give it to you the other day before we got on the plane to come back here.”

Mondatta laughed and took it, “Ah, I was missing my horoscope from my last speech. Truly, I had no idea what was in store for me.”

Heaven help him, Mondatta teasing him did something soft and wretched in his chest and made him grateful for the cold air to subdue his heating face. “Well now you know.”

Mondatta made a noise of agreement and read aloud, “Your well-meaning words keep getting lost in translation. Take a break from explaining, pitching, presenting or even talking to people who have frazzled your nerves. This week is best used to reflect, hibernate and meditate.” He laughed again, “How apt. Apparently the stars have told me to take a break, Mr. Alexander. I suppose I shall have to do so.” He stepped up next to his bodyguard, the two of them side-by-side facing the east where the horizon had begun to pink. 

“Is suppose you must,” Alexander agreed, sipping again around his smile. 

“Let us see yours, hmm?” He glanced through, finding Taurus, “With so many social contacts in your life, there will always be enough people to remind you of the beauty of life. Not everyone around you wears a smile at this time, but it doesn’t stop them from inspiring you and reminding you how magical your existence actually is.” 

Alexander blinked hard, because seriously, and quickly turned his attention back to the sunrise. “Well,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice even, “I am feeling pretty fortunate right now.”

The hand he felt set on his shoulder was both a surprise and entirely expected. Mondatta was so conservative with his contact, touches like this one came only rarely, but Alexander would swear he felt it coming along the cold air and in the light of the sunrise. 

He felt like he knew this Omnic a little too well for his own peace of mind. 

“You know, I love these mountains, I have been looking forward to spending the winter months here almost since we left on our previous excursion. But their stark beauty is very monochrome. Still and silent. Perhaps for the spring we should go somewhere colorful.”

Alexander nodded thoughtfully, “Almost any place will be more colorful than the mountains.”

“That is true,” Mondatta chuckled.

He sipped his coffee, “If I think of anything I’ll let you know.”

\--

It wasn’t until he was at home with his mother over Christmas, sitting on the old flat couch she refused to replace, drinking spiked cocoa and watching documentaries that he had an idea. 

“I’m gonna turn into a snowbird one of these days, Lexie,” She was saying mournfully, as the film showed several tropical islands. “Just wait, you’ll see.”

He snorted, “You will not.”

“Watch me,” She threatened without any real conviction. “I’m so tired of these rough winters. Thank fuck we didn’t move any further north. I couldn’t put up with anything worse than this.”

“Let me tell you again all the times I’ve been to the Himalayas,” He snarked. 

His mother grinned at him, “That’s your own damn fault.” On screen the documentary switched from tropical islands to somewhere more temperate, showing off time lapse of spring plants blooming and sprouting through the soil. “If only Winter went that fast.”

“We’ll get there,” Alexander soothed.

“Winter is so bleak and there’s so much of it,” She continued to bemoan, though mostly at this point just to annoy her son, he was certain, and she gestured at the screen, where it was showing flowering trees. Dogwood, magnolia, redbud. “Look how fucking pretty those are, so colorful.” She sighed, as if forlorn, “I can’t wait for spring.”

Alexander blinked a bit, hearing the echo of his conversation weeks before with Mondatta. Maybe some place with flowering trees was a good idea. “You think?” He murmured to himself. 

“What?” She eyed him, “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t paying you any attention, what did you say?”

He rolled his eyes, “Just… thinking.” He considered, “Where would you go for spring then, that’s beautiful?”

To his surprise she snapped up, grappling for the remote like an octopus and Alexander scooted away to avoid her flailing, “Let me fast forward this thing, I’ll show you.” She jabbed a button and the documentary sped through the next few minutes till she hit play. 

_“Oh,”_ He murmured, watching as the footage showed hundreds of cherry trees in bloom, their branches laden with flowers like pink sow, petals tumbling in the wind like a gentle storm. “Where is that?”

“Japan, somewhere,” She said and raised an eyebrow when he yanked out his phone, searching for something furiously. “What?”

“I just had an idea,” Was all he said.

_He would look so beautiful standing amongst the cherry blossoms._

\--

That night Alexander called Mondatta on the temple’s private line.

“Hello, sir—Ah, yes, Merry Christmas to you as well. If you haven’t settled on where to visit next with the Shambali then I had a suggestion. What do you think about Hanamura, in Japan? It’s known for its cherry trees in the spring.” There was a beat of quiet as Alexander listened, and then he grinned a touch, victorious, “No, sir, I haven’t been to Japan either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now that this chapter is over, the story can finally, finally, FINALLY get to the good parts. I hope it'll have been worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This thing is also long as fucking fuck. It’s currently just under 70k words and is not quite finished. I’m hoping posting this might give me the last little kick I need to finish it up. No posting schedule since it’s unfinished but I’m going to shoot for once a week or so.


End file.
